Q/  •    «y     ^^/^ 

MwvewUJu/  /ey     (L^aJt/irrnta/ 
//      /  7 

6^ yr-l        ' 


47 


THE   LIVES 


OP  THE 


BRITISH  HISTORIANS 


BT 


EUGENE    LAWKENCE 

1 1 


"  Namque  et  Herodotum   ilium,  qni  prinoeps  g«DO8  hoc  onuivit— ct,  post   ilium,  cranes  Thueydides 
dusendi  artificio,  mea  sententifi,  focile  vicit." 


VOL.    I. 


NEW    YORK  : 
C.    SCKIBNEK,    145    NASSAU    ST. 

1855. 


M  U4- 


ENTBEKD  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1855,  by 

CHARLES    SCRIBNER, 
In  the  Clerk'a  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  U.  S.  for  the  Southern  District  of  New  York. 


MORSE 


STBPHEN9 


W.  H.  TINSON,  Stereotyper. 


GEORGE  RUSSELL  A  Co.  Printers. 


THE  HON.  ALEXANDER  W.  BRADFORD, 


THE   DISTINGUISHED  JURIST  AND   SCHOLAR, 


THIS    WORK    IS    DEDICATED, 


IX  TESTIMONY  OF  THE  RESPECT  AND  AFFECTION  OF 


THE  AUTHOR. 


?  1.0986 


PREFACE, 


HAVING  noticed  that  there  was  no  account,  in  the  language,  of  the 
lives  of  the  British  Historians,  I  have  been  led  to  publish  the  following 
sketches  of  those  eminent  men.  They  have  been  chiefly  composed 
during  the  intervals  of  more  severe  studies,  and  I  am  too  conscious  of 
their  many  imperfections,  not  to  feel  great  diffidence  in  offering  them  to 
the  public.  Yet  I  trust  that  the  interest  of  the  subject  may  atone  for 
many  deficiencies  in  the  execution,  and  that  they  will  prove  not  alto- 
gether unentertaining  or  uninstructive. 

The  Historians,  as  a  class,  unlike  their  more  erratic  brethren,  the 
Poets,  have  usually  been  grave,  wise,  prudent  and  virtuous  men.  Some 
of  them,  like  Clarendon  or  Burnet,  have  taken  a  large  share  in  the 
politics  of  their  age,  and  have  left  the  impress  of  their  peculiar  opinions 
upon  the  history  of  their  country.  Others,  like  Gibbon  and  Hume,  have 
been  the  popular  authors  of  their  time,  aiding  the  progress  of  literature 
in  every  land,  by  an  example  of  unselfish  devotion  to  mental  improve- 
ment. While  even  the  humblest  of  them  have  prepared  the  way,  by 
their  researches  and  inquiries,  for  the  advent  of  writers  of  greater 
genius,  and,  probably,  a  Macaulay  or  a  Hume  would  not  be  unwilling  to 
confess  that  they  had  been  considerably  indebted  to  Carte  and  Rapin. 

In  our  own  country  our  greatest  writers  are  Historians,  and  already, 
in  the  dawn  of  our  literature,  it  possesses  eminent  names  in  history, 
worthy  to  take  their  place  by  the  side  of  Robertson  and  Hume.  It  is  a 
pleasing  trait,  too,  of  the  taste  of  our  reading  public,  that  historical 


VI  PREFACE. 

productions  are  so  widely  patronized,  and  that  the  works  of  our 
Historians  are  read  with  delight  by  countless  numbers  of  their  country- 
men. 

I  am  led,  therefore,  to  hope  that  the  following  lives  of  the  Elder 
Historians  will  not  be  unacceptable  to  the  taste  of  the  general  reader  ; 
while,  to  the  student  of  History,  they  may  afford  a  clear  and  careful 
review  of  the  progress  of  the  art.  They  have  been  composed  with  care, 
from  the  best  sources,  chiefly  with  the  hope  of  recalling  the  memory  of 
a  class  of  great  writers  who  have  as  yet  wanted  a  biographer,  and  I 
propose,  should  the  work  be  favorably  received,  to  continue  the  series 
down  to  the  death  of  Arnold. 

New  York,  Nov.  1855. 


CONTENTS. 


THE    EARLY    HISTORIANS. 

PAQB 

Monkish  Records — Great  rarity  of  books — The  library  of  Oxford — Gildas,  the  earliest 
of  the  Historians— Bede— The  Ecclesiastical  History  —  Bede,  a  Reformer— His 
style — Merits  of  Bede — Origin  of  his  name — Legends — Ingulphus  of  Croyland — 
Jeffrey  of  Monmouth — Matthew  Paris — Robert  Fabian — John  Speed — Sir  Richard 
Baker, 13-30 

SIR  WALTER   RALEIGH. 

The  nature  of  his  intellect — His  devotional  verses — His  love  of  nature — His  ambition 
and  pride  —  Raleigh's  appearance  —  Elizabeth  sends  aid  to  the  Protestants  — 
Raleigh  in  the  camp  of  Coligny — His  taste  in  poetry — The  danger  of  Elizabeth — 
Raleigh's  Discoveries — His  first  attempt  to  settle  America — Lord  Grey — Raleigh 
and  Spenser— Raleigh  weary  of  Ireland— Elizabeth's  weaknesses— Raleigh  made 
known  to  Elizabeth — Their  first  interview — Raleigh's  peers — Sidney  and  Bacon — 
Elizabeth  keeps  her  courtiers  employed— The  Duke  of  Anjou— Raleigh  looks  with 
hope  to  America — He  resolves  to  explore  the  unknown  shores — Raleigh's  influence 
on  his  age — The  narrative  of  his  captains — Nature  of  the  country — Narrative  of 
the  voyage — The  discoverer  knighted — A  second  expedition — Virginia — Its  dangers 
— The  Colonists'  return  with  Sir  Francis  Drake — Tobacco — Raleigh's  Irish  estate — 
The  Earl  of  Leicester— Raleigh's  unpopularity— Taste  for  Buccaneering— Dangers 
of  the  early  navigators— The  ocean,  the  pathway  to  fame— Raleigh's  pinnaces— 


Vlll  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

They  attack  a  Spanish  fleet — Raleigh  still  rising — The  Island  of  Roanoke — Fate  of 
the  City  of  Raleigh — The  Armada — Robert  Devereux — Essex's  advantages— Raleigh 
and  Essex— Their  rivalry— The  English  attempts  to  conquer  Portugal— Fate  of  the 
adventurers — Spenser  in  Kilcolman  Castle — Raleigh  urges  the  publication  of  the 
Fairy  Queen— His  verses  in  its  praise— Spenser  profits  by  his  friendship— His  pas- 
torals— Raleigh  restored  to  favor — Fate  of  the  Revenge — Raleigh's  narrative  of  the 
fight— His  hatred  of  Spain— Is  in  disgrace  at  court— His  conduct  in  the  Tower— 
His  complaints  —  His  losses — Sir  Walter  in  Parliament — Danger  from  Spain- 
Raleigh  charged  with  atheism— Character  of  his  intellect— El  Dorado— Its  allure- 
ments— Hume  unable  to  understand  Raleigh — El  Dorado — His  design  in  publishing 
his  narrative — Wonders  of  El  Dorado — Keymis's  voyage  to  Guiana — The  expedi- 
tion to  Cadiz— Raleigh's  conduct  towards  Essex— Raleigh's  prudence— The  attack 
— Raleigh  in  the  Warspite — An  indecisive  contest — The  dismay  of  the  Spaniards- 
Destruction  of  their  fleet — Raleigh's  disappointment — Cecil — Another  expedition 
against  Spain — The  attack  on  Fayal — Essex  wishes  to  punish  Raleigh  with  death — 
They  are  reconciled — Imprudence  of  Essex — His  conduct  in  Ireland — He  returns 
— Raleigh  dissatisfied — Essex  plots  against  the  Queen— Discovery  of  the  plot — 
Raleigh  recommends  the  execution  of  Essex — Last  days  of  the  Queen — Her  suc- 
cessor unfriendly  to  Raleigh — Raleigh  accused  of  conspiracy — His  defence — Its 
completeness — Coke's  abuse  of  the  prisoner — Raleigh  and  Coke — The  verdict — His 
letter  to  hia  wife— A  farewell  to  life— His  imprisonment— His  medical  preparation 
— Prince  Henry  his  friend — Literature,  Raleigh's  chief  solace — His  various  studies 
—The  History  of  the  World— Effect  of  his  imprisonment— Preface  to  the  History 
— Slow  sale  of  the  works — His  pure  English— His  originality  of  thought — Military 
experience — His  metaphysical  reasoning — A  passage  from  the  History — Its  style 
and  subject — Raleigh  becomes  highly  popular — The  Spaniards  anticipate  him — 
Raleigh's  sincerity — His  last  expedition — He  returns  to  die — Attempts  to  escape 
— The  approach  of  death — His  execution — His  son  Carew — The  intellect  and 
character  of  Raleigh— The  influence  of  a  courtier's  life,  ....  31-163 


WILLIAM  CAMDEN. 

He  goes  up  to  London— His  early  love  for  the  old— He  resolves  to  write  of  British 
antiquities — His  labors — The  Britannia — Camden's  antiquarian  friends — Spelman 
and  Usher— His  work  does  not  escape  criticism— Glover  and  Leland— Camden's 
various  writings — His  last  work — The  scholars  of  the  age — The  admiration  they 
excited — Their  influence — Their  effect  upon  the  age — The  veneration  once  felt  for 
them  declines — Camden  corresponds  with  De  Thou — The  first  British  Antiquarian 
Society — Its  meetings  are  suspended — Camden's  death  and  funeral — He  never 
travelled  abroad— His  patriotic  ardor— Legendary  lore  of  the  Britannia— His 
minute  description  of  England— The  "  Annales  rerum  anglicarum,"  .  164-189 


CONTENTS.  IX 

EDWARD  HYDE,  EARL  OP  CLARENDON. 

PAGE 

His  estimate  of  happiness— The  Hydes— Clarendon  enters  Oxford— He  marries— He 
is  presented  to  Laud — His  business  increases — His  literary  friends — The  pros- 
perity of  England— Charles  calls  a  Parliament— The  Long  Parliament— Falkland 
— His  Character — Hyde's  steady  loyalty — He  joins  the  King  at  York— He  refuses 
office— Is  made  guardian  to  the  Prince— Arthur  Lord  Capel— Hyde  in  the  Isle  of 
Jersey — Dissensions  among  the  exiles — Hyde  in  Spain — His  poverty — The  restor- 
ation— Anne  Hyde,  Duchess  of  York — The  Queen  mother  opposes  the  marriage — 
Clarendon's  unpopularity— Its  causes— The  Clarendon  Gallery— Fate  of  the 
Palaco  and  Gallery — His  friend  Evelyn — Clarendon's  fall  draws  near — His  chief 
crime — The  people  insult  the  Chancellor — Death  of  his  grandchildren — His  wife 
dies— His  friends  ad  vise  him  to  fly— His  flight— He  leaves  an  address  to  Parlia- 
ment—  His  adventures  at  Evreux  —  Clarendon  in  exile — His  family  —  His 
character, 190-231 

GILBERT  BURNET,  BISHOP  OF  SALISBURY. 

Severe  strictures  on  his  character — His  true  position — His  familiarity  with  kings 
and  courts — The  remarkable  scenes  he  witnessed — His  father — Burnet  studies 
law — But  prefers  the  church — He  travels — He  pauses  at  Amsterdam — His  parish 
— Episcopacy  unpopular  in  Scotland — Charles  attempts  to  introduce  it  by  force — 
Burnet  offends  the  ruling  party — The  Duchess  of  Hamilton — Burnet  marries — Is 
introduced  to  the  King— Returns  to  Scotland— He  settles  in  London— London 
hostile  to  the  court — Persecution  in  Scotland — Burnet  as  a  preacher— His  argu- 
ment with  Coleman  —  His  History  of  the  Reformation — He  makes  a  strange 
convert — Attempts  the  conversion  of  the  King — His  various  works — The  Rye- 
house  plot— Execution  of  his  friend  Russell — His  speech  probably  written  by 
Burnet — Burnet  in  Paris — His  wide  renown — The  Duchess  de  la  Valliere — He  flies 
to  the  Continent — Persecution  of  the  Protestants — Fatal  to  Louis  XIV.— Protest- 
ants never  persecutors — Burnet  at  home — He  visits  Geneva — William  of  Orange 
— His  Queen — James  II.  enraged — Burnet's  second  wife — William  Penn — William 
prepares  to  invade  England — James  unsuspicious — The  expedition  sails — Flight 
of  James  II. — The  succession — Burnet  made  Bishop — His  conduct — His  consist- 
ency— He  returns  to  literature — His  third  wife — His  tutorship — His  devotion  to 
his  pupil — His  retirement — His  charities — The  whigs — Their  fall  —  Literature 
reigns  with  Anne — Swift — Burnet  the  butt  of  the  day — His  blunders — Parnell's 
satires — Pope  and  Swift  on  Burnet — The  whigs  in  office — His  death — Halifax 
writes  his  character — His  family — Thomas  Burnet— Burnet's  activity — His  style 
—Swift  on  Burnet's  style— Examples  of  his  style— Charles  II.  and  William  III.— 
Chief  defect  of  his  writings— Burnet  as  an  orator— His  liberal  principles,  .  232-811 

1* 


X  CONTENTS. 

THOMAS  FULLER. 

PAGB 

The  Civil  War— The  Ecclesiastical  History— His  other  works,        .        .        .        312-315 

LAURENCE  ECHARD. 

His  History  of  England— other  works, 316-318 

ROBERT  BRADY. 
Brady's  History, 3^-820 

JOHN  OLDMIXON. 
Oldmixon's  chief  works,  321-322 

THOMAS  CARTE. 

He  goes  abroad — His  History  of  England — Carte's  habits  and  character,       .     323-326 

WILLIAM  ROBERTSON. 

His  love  of  freedom — His  appearance — Want  of  materials— His  father — The  habits 
of  his  youth — Robertson's  character — He  is  licensed  to  preach — His  strong  and 
actiye  constitution — He  enters  the  General  Assembly — His  liberality — He  gains 
influence — Defends  Home— The  History  of  Scotland — He  goes  to  London — His 
reception — Sells  his  copyright— The  History  comes  out — Hume's  friendly  aid — 
Robertson's  political  moderation — The  King  proposes  to  him  a  subject — He  was 
not  well  fitted  for  the  task— History  of  Charles  V.— It  appears  in  1769— Gilbert 
Stuart — Robertson's  firmness — He  still  writes — History  of  America — His  fame 
spreads  abroad — His  health  declines — Is  always  cheerful — His  oratory — Lord 
Cullen— His  style  not  simple — He  chooses  interesting  subjects — His  view-of  the 
state  of  Europe— His  pictures— History  of  America— Wai  pole's  opinion  of  his 
writings, 327-365 


CONTENTS.  XI 

GEORGE  LORD  LYTTLETON. 

PAGE 

His  manners  —  Goes  to  Soissons — Pitt  and  Grenville  —  The  cousinhood  —  His 
literary  friends — He  marries — His  conversion — Political  connexions — The  "  Dia- 
logues of  the  Dead" — His  History — His  labor — Its  style  and  subject — He  is  a  lead- 
ing critic— His  oratory— The  close  of  his  life— His  death— His  literary  reputation 
— The  character  of  his  works, 366-384. 

TOBIAS  SMOLLETT. 

His  tragedy— Roderick  Random  — Peregrine  Pickle  — He  visits  Scotland  —  His- 
tory of  England -His  travels— His  old  age  — His  nature  — His  poetry  — The 
History, 385-395 


LIVES  OF  THE  BRITISH  HISTORIANS, 


THE   EAELY   HISTORIANS. 

HISTORY,  tlie  department  of  literature  which  requires 
most  labor  and  research,  has  had  peculiar  charms  for 
Englishmen.  Their  great  historians,  unrivalled  since  the 
days  of  Tacitus,  have  united  almost  all  the  highest  excel- 
lences of  their  art;  and  both  Gibbon  and  Hume  are 
allowed  to  be  more  profound  than  Yoltaire,  more  philo- 
sophical than  Guicciardini,  more  learned  than  Schiller, 
and  more  interesting  than  the  critical  Niebuhr.  The 
taste  for  historical  writing  has  followed  the  Saxon  race 
in  all  its  wanderings,  and  the  most  promising  trait  of 
our  own  literature,  is  the  excellence  of  its  productions 
in  history. 

The  long  line  of  British  historians,  commencing  with 
Gildas,  who  wrote  when  the  Roman  legions  had  hardly 
retreated  from  his  unhappy  island,  and  closing  with  the 
death  of  Arnold,  I  propose  to  divide  into  the  earlier 
writers  who  preceded  the  age  of  Elizabeth,  and  the  later, 


14  •    MONKISH   RECORDS. 

who  succeeded  that  period.  The  earlier  historians  were 
chiefly  monks  :  it  was  usual  in  every  monastery  to  appoint 
some  person  to  record  the  ecclesiastical  and  civil  events 
of  the  year,  and  hence  arose  the  monastic  taste  for  his- 
tory, as  well  as  the  chief  materials  upon  which  it  was 
employed.  The  studious  monk,  weary  of  monotony,  or 
desirous,  like  the  excellent  Bede,  to  become  useful  to 
his  age,  was  accustomed  to  relate  in  rude  language, 
and  with  an  amusing  ignorance,  and  unbounded  credu- 
lity, the  history  of  the  Saxon  and  Norman  kings.  Neces- 
sarily, these  monkish  histories  have  little  interest ;  they 
are  filled  with  theological  controversy,  and  the  private 
affairs  of  the  church.  Being  written  in  Latin,  and  in  a 
Latin  that  no  Roman  could  have  understood,  they  have 
never  made  their  way  into  general  notice,  nor  is  there 
anything  in  their  contents  that  could  have  gained  them 
any  popular  favor.  They  have  seldom  either  method  or 
point,  and  the  ignorant  author  was  content  to  narrate 
the  facts  or  fictions  afforded  him  by  the  monastic  records, 
without  discrimination,  taste,  or  thought. 

Yet,  in  one  view,  the  monkish  writers  deserve  high 
praise.  They  wrote  under  great  discouragements,  and 
had  no  means  of  improving  their  taste,  or  of  fostering 
their  love  for  letters.  With  books  they  could  have  had 
little  acquaintance,  for  books,  in  those  early  ages,  were 
so  scarce  as  to  be  almost  unattainable.  They,  perhaps, 
had  never  seen  the  works  of  the  classical  authors ;  they 
had  never  read  a  line  of  Livy  or  Cicero,  and  knew 
Yirgil  only  by  the  rumor  of  his  fame.  Their  literature 


GREAT  KAEITY  OF  BOOKS.  15 

was  gleaned  from  a  rare  perusal  of  the  vulgate,  or  from 
the  frequent  use  of  the  beautiful  services  of  the  church. 
Warton,  in  his  History  of  Poetry,  and  other  writers, 
relate  many  circumstances  which  show  how  inaccessible 
were  books  from  the  eighth  to  the  fifteenth  century. 

The  libraries  of  Italy  were  so  totally  ruined  by  the 
invasions  of  the  Barbarians,  that  the  Popes  were  often 
obliged  to  borrow  books  from  Germany.  In  France, 
they  were  so  scantily  supplied  that,  in  the  ninth  century, 
the  abbot  of  Ferriers  sent  to  Pope  Benedict  III.,. to  beg 
a  copy  of  Cicero  de  Officiis,  as  there  was  none  in  all 
France.  At  the  beginning  of  the  tenth  century,  copies 
of  the  Bible  were  so  rare  in  Spain,  that  one  copy  often 
served  for  several  monasteries.  It  was  a  rule  of  the 
English  monasteries,  in  1072,  that  the  librarians  should 
deliver  to  each  monk  one  book  at  the  beginning  of  the 
year ;  and  if  at  its  close  he  had  not  read  it,  he  was 
obliged  to  do  penance.  The  Bishop  of  Winchester's 
cathedral  library  consisted  in  129£,  of  seventeen  books. 
This  prelate  borrowed  from  the  convent  of  St.  S  within, 
a  copy  of  the  Bible,  in  two  folio  volumes,  giving  his 
bond  for  its  safe  return.  The  Bible  had  lately  been 
bequeathed  to  the  convent,  and  so  valuable  was  the 
legacy,  that  a  daily  mass  was  said  for  the  soul  of  the 
donor. 

Books  in  those  days  were  the  most  costly  of  posses- 
sions, yet  no  price  could  in  fact  exceed  their  value, 
since  they  contained  the  germs  of  civilization  and 
advancement.  In  those  few  manuscripts,  so  reverenced 


16  THE  LIBEAEY   OF  OXFOED. 

and  valued,  was  shut  up  the  great  spirit  of  modern 
progress. 

But  even  had  the  simple  monks  beheld  clearly  all 
the  vast  results  that  were  to  flow  from  the  influence  of 
books,  they  could  not  have  looked  upon  them  with 
more  reverence  than  they  did  out  of  pure  superstition, 
or  for  the  sake  of  their  rarity.  If  any  person  gave  a 
book  to  a  Holy  House,  he  was  thought  to  have  deserved 
salvation.  Formidable  anathemas  were  pronounced 
against  any  one  who  should  alienate  or  injure  one  of  these 
costly  possessions.  The  sale  of  a  book  was  attended 
with  as  many  formalities  as  that  of  a  vast  estate.  Per- 
sons of  character  and  importance  were  invited  to  wit- 
ness the  transfer ;  and  a  formal  record  was  made  of  the 
transaction.  In  1225,  Roger,  Dean  of  York,  gave 
several  Latin  bibles  to  Oxford,  with  a  condition  that 
the  student,  who  borrowed  one  of  them,  should  deposit 
a  pledge  for  its  safe  return.  Oxford,  the  centre  of 
English  learning,  possessed,  in  the  fourteenth  century,  a 
library  consisting  of  a  few  tracts  chained  to  the  wall, 
or  kept  in  the  chancel  of  St.  Mary's  church ;  and  even 
so  late  as  the  middle  of  the  fifteenth,  it  was  ordered  by 
a  statute  of  St.  Mary's  College,  that  no  student  should 
use  a  book  longer  than  an  hour  or  two  at  most,  so  that 
all  might  profit  by  the  scanty  collection.  In  France, 
at  the  opening  of  the  fourteenth  century,  the  royal 
library  of  Paris  contained  but  four  classics,  one  copy 
each  of  Cicero,  Ovid,  Lucan,  and  Boethius. 

Books  therefore,  the  first  want  of  the  author,  were 


GILDAS,   THE  EARLIEST   OF  THE  HISTORIANS.  17 

almost  inaccessible  to  the  Anglican  historian :  lie  was 
isolated  from  communion  with  other  minds,  and  to  him 
all  the  great  masters  of  literature  had  written  in  vain. 
He  might  by  rare  favor,  and  at  distant  intervals,  glance 
over  a  few  pages  of  Cicero  or  Lucan  in  the  library  of 
some  wealthy  earl  or  liberal  prince,  but  even  kings  in 
those  days,  could  scarcely  afford  to  purchase  those 
books,  which  are  now  the  common  possession  of  the 
poorest.  It  is  no  wonder,  therefore,  that  the  monkish 
writers  were  usually  deficient  in  taste,  and  becomes  the 
more  wonderful  that  Bede,  and  several  of  his  successors, 
should  have  attained  such  wide  information  and  so 
clear  a  style. 

The  earliest  of  the  historians,  Gildas,  said  to  have  been 
monk  of  Bangor,  wrote  about  the  middle  of  the  sixth 
century.  He  had  seen  the  last  Roman  legion  retreat 
from  England,  and  must  have  witnessed  the  sudden 
ruin  that  fell  upon  his  country  from  the  inroads  of 
the  German  invaders.  Under  the  Romans,  England 
had  shared  in  the  general  civilization  of  the  empire ; 
its  people  had  imitated  the  luxury  of  the  capital,  and 
had  no  doubt  made  much  progress  in  mental  and  social 
refinement.  The  baths,  the  houses,  the  Mosaic  pave- 
ments, the  jewels,  and  the  coins  of  Kome  had  been 
copied  by  the  distant  provincials ;  and  the  ancient 
Britons,  like  the  people  of  Gaul  and  Spain,  must  have 
imbibed  the  literature  and  manners  of  their  conquerors. 
But  they  were  now  once  more  to  be  plunged  into  a  new 
barbarism.  The  Germans,  who  had  wholly  escaped  the 


18  BEDE. 

influence  of  Roman  civilization,  poured  into  the  island, 
and  by  their  tyranny  towards  the  natives,  and  their  violent 
wars  and  dissensions  with  each  other,  completed  the 
misery  of  England.  Of  this  event  Gildas  had  been  a 
spectator,  and  his  famous  letter,  the  first  English  histo- 
rical work,  is  entitled  "  Of  the  Euin  of  Britain."  It  is 
divided  into  two  parts,  in  the  first  of  which  the  author 
reproaches  the  British  nobility  for  their  vices  and 
dissensions  which  have  led  to  this  melancholy  result, 
and  gives  a  short  narrative  of  the  events  of  the  contest. 
In  the  second,  he  laments  over  the  immorality  and 
degeneracy  of  the  clergy,  the  chief  cause,  he  alleges,  of 
the  judgment  with  which  heaven  has  visited  his  country. 

Gildas  has  left  behind  him  this  single  production.  It 
can  hardly  rank  with  history,  yet  it  is  a  remarkable 
and  a  methodical  work,  and  it  obtains  a  strong  interest 
for  every  Anglo-Saxon  reader,  when  we  remember  that 
it  was  written  while  the  great  race,  to  which  we  belong, 
was  just  struggling  into  being. 

The  next  century  produced  a  greater  name.  Bede,  the 
venerable,  has  been  claimed  by  both  England  and  Italy, 
but  there  is  no  doubt  that  he  was  born  in  672,  near 
"Wearmouth,  in  the  diocese  of  Durham,  in  England,  and 
was  educated  at  the  monastery  of  St.  Paul,  near  the 
mouth  of  the  river  Tyne.  Here  he  soon  made  himself 
observed  by  his  piety  and  his  application  to  study :  he 
was  ordained  a  deacon  at  nineteen,  and  a  priest  at  thirty. 
The  fame  of  his  learning  having  spread  over  all  Europe, 
Pope  Sergius  invited  him  to  Rome  to  aid  by  his 


THE  ECCLESIASTOAL   HISTORY.  19 

counsels,  in  the  government  of  the  church.  But  Bede  pre- 
ferred to  remain  in  his  peaceful  cell,  devoted  to  litera- 
ture, and  happily  engaged  in  instructing  the  young 
monks  of  his  monastery. 

ISTo  man  was  ever  more  thoroughly  an  author  than 
Bede.  Erom  youth  to  age  he  was  incessantly  occupied 
with  his  writings.  It  was  said  of  him  that  he  passed 
from  his  prayers  to  his  studies,  and  from  his  studies  to 
his  prayers.  The  result  of  this  life  of  labor  was  a  vast 
number  of  works,  upon  a  wide  range  of  subjects, 
embracing  the  whole  learning  of  his  time.  It  would  be 
tedious  even  to  name  all  his  productions,  and  I  can  only 
offer  a  few  examples  of  their  subjects.  He  wrote  "Four 
Books  of  Philosophy,"  «  Of  the  Substance  of  the  Ele- 
ments," a  "  Martyrology,"  a  description  of  Solomon's 
Temple,  besides  works  upon  Grammar,  Arithmetic, 
Chronology,  and  similar  topics,  for  the  use  of  his  pupils 
in  literature. 

His  great  work,  the  "  Ecclesiastical  History  of  Eng- 
land," by  which  he  has  gained  a  lasting  fame,  was  not 
published  until  a  few  years  before  his  death.  Notwith- 
standing its  absurd  legends,  this  is  an  astonishing  pro- 
duction for  an  age  when  so  few  materials  existed  for  a 
learned  research.  It  was  looked  upon,  until  long  after 
the  Norman  conquest,  as  the  glory  and  the  wonder  of 
English  literature;  and,  even  as  late  as  the  reign  of 
Henry  YIIL,  England  had  produced  no  writer  who 
could  rival  the  learning  or  the  vigorous  diction  of  the 
Saxon  monk. 


20  BEDE  A  EEFOEMEE. 

Bede  was  not  only  a  writer,  but  a  philanthropist  and 
a  reformer.  He  desired  to  restore  the  church  to  its 
primitive  simplicity,  which,  even  in  that  rude  age, 
seems  to  have  long  since  departed :  he  wrote  a  letter  to 
his  friend  Egbert,  Bishop  of  York,  a  relative  of  the  royal 
family,  and  a  man  noted  for  his  liberal  views  and  wise 
policy,  to  obtain  his  sympathy  in  the  movement.  He 
points  out  to  Egbert  that  the  monasteries  are  filled  with 
the  immoral  and  the  dissolute ;  that  the  number  of  these 
institutions  was  rapidly  increasing,  and  threatened  to 
swallow  up  in  their  vast  possessions  all  the  arable  land 
of  the  kingdom:  he  complains  that  the  great  nobles 
make  their  children  abbots  and  abbesses,  without  any 
proper  preparation,  and  long  before  they  have  arrived 
at  the  lawful  age ;  and  he  recommends  as  the  only  cure 
for  these  pressing  evils,  the  assembling  of  a  synod  to 
consider  the  state  of  the  church.  "When  this  letter  was 
written  Bede  was  in  a  decline  :  he  did  not  live  to  carry 
out  his  reforms,  but  died  May,  Y35,  aged  sixty-three. 

His  body  was  laid  in  the  church  of  the  monastery  of 
Tarrow,  and  so  sacred  was  his  tomb,  in  the  opinion  of 
his  countrymen,  that  thousands  flocked  thither  every 
year  to  pray  over  his  ashes.  His  life  had  been  one  of 
singular  purity,  and  amid  the  general  corruption  of  a 
barbarous  age,  he  might  well  be  invested  with  superna- 
tural sanctity. 

His  love  for  study  ceased  only  with  his  life.  It  is 
related  that  on  the  night  of  his  death,  as  he  was  dictating 
certain  passages  from  St.  Isidore,  the  young  monk  who 


HIS   STYLE.  21 

wrote  for  him  said  to  him  that  but  one  chapter  remained, 
and  begged  him,  as  he  seemed  to  have  great  difficulty 
in  speaking,  to  leave  it  for  another  time.  "  No,"  replied 
Bede,  "take  a  new  pen,  and  write  as  fast  as  you  are 
able."  "When  there  remained  but  one  passage  more  to 
be  translated,  Bede  urged  him  to  hasten,  and  soon  the 
young  man  said  to  him,  "It  is  done."  "You  speak 
truly,"  answered  Bede.  "  It  is  done ;"  and  some  minutes 
afterwards  expired. 

His  Latin  style  is  clear  and  strong,  although  neces- 
sarily far  from  correct,  and  he  writes  with  an  easy  flow 
of  thought  that  fixes  the  attention  of  the  reader.  He 
had  apparently  good  natural  sense,  as  well  as  great 
learning,  although  he  indulges  in  many  strange  fancies 
upon  theological  subjects.  His  account  of  Joseph, 
Mary's  husband,  whom  he  asserts  to  have  been  a 
farmer,  and  his  particular  description  of  each  of  the 
three  wise  men  who  came  to  worship  the  infant  Saviour, 
are  novel  and  amusing.  The  elder  of  the  Magi,  whom 
he  calls  Melchior,  had,  Bede  tells  us,  grey  hair,  and  a 
long  beard,  and  offered  gold  to  the  Saviour  in  acknow- 
ledgment of  his  sovereignty.  Gasper,  the  second,  was 
younger,  had  no  beard,  and  offered  frankincense  in 
confession  of  his  divinity ;  while  Balthasar,  the  third, 
was  of  a  dark  complexion,  wore  a  long  beard,  and 
offered  myrrh  to  the  Christ,  a  type  of  his  humanity. 
He  then  describes  minutely  their  dress,  having  perhaps 
borrowed  his  description  from  some  ancient  picture. 
He  delights  in  the  supernatural,  and  although  possess- 


22  MERITS   OF  BEDE. 

ing  excellent  common  sense  upon  all  other  subjects, 
seldom  fails  to  lose  it  wholly  when  treating  of  theology. 

His  writings  have  been  greatly  admired  by  the 
English  of  every  age,  and,  perhaps,  too  much  decried 
by  the  French  critics.  Camden  calls  him.  "  the  singular 
light  of  our  island,  whom  we  may  more  easily  admire 
than  successfully  praise."  Leland  commemorates  him  as 
"  the  glory  and  chief  ornament  of  England."  In  oppo- 
sition to  this  extravagant  praise,  the  French  have 
ridiculed  his  credulity,  and  undervalued  his  monastic 
lore. 

But  the  eminent  merit  of  Bede  as  an  author  has  been 
proved  by  the  extent  and  permanence  of  his  fame. 
Arising  from  the  gloom  of  a  dark  age,  he  is  still  con- 
sidered one  of  the  most  illustrious  of  the  learned  men  of 
England.  He  was  the  first  of  her  men  of  letters  :  and 
cultivated  literature  at  a  time,  when,  except  among  the 
Saracens,  the  love  of  learning  had  apparently  died  out. 
He  gained  an  European  celebrity,  such  as  no  author 
since  the  time  of  Augustus  had  possessed :  his  example 
served  to  cherish  among  his  countrymen  a  love  for 
letters,  and  his  assiduous  teaching  diffused  the  litera- 
ture which  he  had  cultivated.  By  these  efforts,  as  well 
as  by  his  educational  books,  his  grammars,  arithmetics, 
and  other  useful  compilations,  he  must  have  done  great 
good,  and  have  elevated  the  mind  of  many  a  young 
monk  above  the  sensuality  and  superstition  in  which  his 
companions  were  plunged.  His  various  translations 
made  his  countrymen  acquainted  with  works  which 


ORIGIN  OF  HIS  NAME.  23 

otherwise  might  have  remained  inaccessible  to  them, 
while  his  rendering  of  the  Bible  into  early  English 
made  them  familiar  with  sacred  truth.  The  amiable 
and  philosophic  King  Alfred  was  a  diligent  student  of 
the  writings  of  Bede,  and  became  the  translator  of  his 
Ecclesiastical  History ;  and  it  is  not  unlikely  that,  with- 
out the  influence  of  the  learned  monk,  Alfred  might  have 
remained  as  rude  and  uncultivated  as  his  ancestors. 

Bede  is  always  called  the  "  venerable,"  a  name,  the 
origin  of  which,  his  admirers  have  variously  explained. 
It  is  said  that  he  was  held  in  such  veneration  by  his 
contemporaries,  that  his  homilies  were  ordered  to  be 
read  in  every  church,  as  a  part  of  the  service :  but,  in 
announcing  the  lecture,  an  embarrassment  occurred  as 
to  what  title  was  to  be  given  to  the  author ;  that  of  Saint 
could  not  apply  to  a  living  man — his  name  without 
some  mark  of  distinction  would  appear  too  bare,  and 
the  title  of  venerable  was  therefore  invented  and  uni- 
versally applied.  This  explanation,  however,  would 
not  satisfy  the  monks,  who  have  added  the  following 
miracle.  "  Bede,"  they  relate,  "  being  blind  from  age 
(though  he  was  not  very  old  when  he  died,  and  was 
never  blind),  a  young  monk,  one  day  having  led  him  in 
a  rocky  place,  where  there  were  many  stones  lying 
around,  told  him,  in  sport,  that  he  was  surrounded  by  a 
crowd  of  people,  who  waited  in  silence  to  receive  his 
exhortation.  The  good  father,  having  made  them  a 
long  address,  ended  with  a  prayer,  to  which,  to  the 
surprise  of  his  companions,  the  stones  respectfully 


24:  LEGENDS. 

added,  '  Amen,  venerable  Bede.' '  There  is  another 
version.  A  monk,  little  skilled  in  the  poetic  art,  was 
engaged  in  writing  Bede's  epitaph.  He  could  only 
compose  these  imperfect  lines :  "  Hac  sunt  in  fossa 

Bedae ossa."     Having  vainly  labored  to  fill  up  the 

blank,  overcome  with  weariness,  he  lay  down  and  fell 
asleep.  But  on  the  morn  in  looking  over  his  work,  he 
was  astonished  to  find  his  doggerel  completed  as 
follows : — 

Hac  sunt  in  fossa 
Bedae  venerabilis  ossa. 

The  name,  however  attained,  was  certainly  well 
deserved.  Few  men  have  been  more  truly  .venerable 
than  the  good  Saxon  monk,  and  English  historians  may 
well  exult  that  the  first  of  their  race  was  the  pure, 
learned,  and  venerable  Bede. 

"No  remarkable  historical  writer  succeeded  Bede,  until 
after  the  Conquest,  when  Ingulphus,  of  Croyland,  com- 
posed a  history  of  his  own  monastery,  in  which  he  was 
naturally  led  to  introduce  something  of  the  civil  history 
of  the  country.  He  was  born  at  London,  in  the  year 
1030.  His  father  being  attached  to  the  court  of  Edward 
the  Confessor,  introduced  him  to  Queen  Editha,  with 
whom  he  had  frequent  interviews.  The  intercourse  be- 
tween the  Saxon  and  the  Norman  courts  was  then  unre- 
strained, and  it  was  common  for  Englishmen  to  visit,  in 
a  friendly  manner,  the  land  of  their  future  conquerors. 
Ingulphus  came  to  Normandy  when  he  was  about; 
twenty-one,  and  was  made  Secretary  to  Duke  "William. 


LNGULPHUS  OF  CROYLAND.  25 

Afterwards  lie  attended  a  party  of  noble  pilgrims  on  a 
visit  to  the  Holy  Land,  and  on  his  return,  entered  a 
monastery  of  Benedictines,  in  Normandy,  of  which  he 
soon  became  the  prior :  a  visit  to  court,  a  pilgrimage, 
and  a  monastery,  being  the  fashionable  career  of  a  tal- 
ented clergyman  in  the  time  of  the  Conqueror.  When 
William  became  king  of  England,  he  sent  for  his  former 
secretary,  and  made  him  Abbot  of  Croyland,  in  Leices- 
tershire. Ingulphus  seems  to  have  made  an  excellent 
abbot.  He  rebuilt  his  monastery,  which  had  been  burnt 
by  the  Danes,  obtained  for  it  new  privileges  from  the 
king,  and  employed  the  close  of  his  life  in  composing  its 
history.  This  work  has  preserved  his  name  to  posterity. 
It  is  not  favorable  to  the  party  of  the  conquered  Saxons, 
and  palliates  the  crimes  of  the  Conqueror.  Yet  Ingul- 
phus was  evidently  a  man  of  ability,  skilled  in  the  old 
philosophy,  industrious,  learned  and  ingenious.  His 
chronicle  begins  with  the  year  626,  in  the  reign  of  the 
Saxon,  Penda,  and  ends  with  the  third  year  of  William 
Eufus.  He  died  1109. 

In  the  twelfth  century,  Baronius,  a  monk  of  Worces- 
ter, succeeded  Ingulphus,  and  after  him  followed  Ead- 
merus,  a  Canterbury  monk.  To  him  succeeded  the  more 
famous  William  of  Malmesbury,  who  wrote  the  history 
of  England,  in  seven  books,  from  the  landing  of  the 
Saxons,  to  the  reign  of  King  Stephen.  He  was  a  man 
of  learning  and  judgment,  and  no  friend  to  the  govern- 
ment of  the  usurper  who  had  seized  upon  the  throne  of 
Queen  Matilda. 

2 


26  JEFFEEY   OF   MONMOUTII. 

Jeffrey  of  Monmouth,  tlie  Livy  of  the  monkish  histo- 
rians, lived  also  in  this  reign.  He  delighted  in  romantic 
lore,  and  filled  his  history  of  the  Britons  with  legends 
that  even  yet  are  entertaining ;  he  related  the  chivalrous 
feats  of  King  Arthur,  and  professed  a  full  belief  in  the 
prophecies  of  Merlin ;  and  he  produced  a  catalogue  of 
more  than  seventy  kings  who  had 'reigned  over  England 
before  the  landing  of  Caesar.  His  style  is  clear  and 
simple,  his  narrative  told  in  an  effective  manner,  while 
his  authenticity  has  found  such  eminent  supporters  as 
Leland  and  Usher.  Simeon  Dunelmensis  and  Henry  of 
Huntington,  two  well  read  monks,  wrote  about  the  same 
period.  William  of  ISTewberry,  so  called  from  his  favor- 
ite monastery,  composed  a  history  of  the  English,  from 
the  death  of  Henry  I.  to  the  year  1097.  He  amused 
himself  by  detecting  and  ridiculing  the  improbable  tales 
of  Jeffrey  of  Monmouth. 

From  the  thirteenth  century  we  have  the  fragment  of 
a  history  written  by  Gervase,  a  monk  of  Canterbury, 
and  at  the  same  time,  lived  Roger  de  Hoveden,  and 
Ralph  de  Diceto,  Dean  of  London,  both  historical 
writers.  But  a  more  eminent  name  distinguishes  the 
same  era. 

Matthew  Paris,  born  in  the  commencement  of  the 
thirteenth  century,  took  the  religious  habit  in  1217,  at 
the  monastery  of  St.  Albans.  Poet,  orator,  and  theolo- 
gian, he  also  understood  painting  and  architecture,  and 
was  skilled  in  mechanics.  His  versatile  genius  illu- 
mines the  gloom  of  a  monastic  age :  he  was  a  man  of 


MATTHEW   PARIS.  27 

rare  probity  and  virtue,  devoted  to  Ms  country,  and 
perhaps,  in  Ms  writings,  too  intolerant  towards  its 
enemies.  He  was  zealous  like  Bede  in  reforming  the 
monasteries,  and  in  bringing  back  the  ancient  church 
discipline  in  its  austerity.  He  also  encouraged  educa- 
tion, having  obtained  through  his  influence  with  Henry 
III.  many  privileges  and  advantages  for  the  University 
of  Oxford.  He  died  in  1259.  His  "Historia  Major 
Angliarum,"  the  best  known  of  his  works,  contains  the 
history  of  England  from  the  Conquest  to  the  forty-third 
year  of  Henry  III.  It  is  a  work,  for  that  age,  of  singu- 
lar boldness  and  liberality ;  it  maintains  the  rights  of 
the  English  church  and  people  against  the  growing 
encroachment  of  the  papal  power,  and  relates  and 
applauds  the  efforts  of  those  of  the  kings  of  England 
who  have  striven  to  diminish,  the  influence  of  the  court 
of  Rome.  The  style  is  clear,  and  the  Latin  remarkably 
pure  for  that  uncultivated  age. 

History,  during  the  next  two  centuries,  languished. 
There  was  no  want  of  monjdsh  writers,  but  they  had 
little  of  the  spirit  of  Bede,  or  of  Matthew  Paris. 
Trivet,  Higden,  Hemmingford,  and  their  successors, 
hardly  deserve  to  be  commemorated.  The  monastery 
of  St.  Albans,  however,  the  memorable  centre  of 
mediseval  histori-cal  research,  still  continued  to  deserve 
its  fame.  Walsingham,  one  of  its  monks,  and,  perhaps, 
regius  professor  of  history,  wrote  a  brief  narrative 
commencing  with  the  close  of  the  reign  of  Henry  IH. 
and  ending  with  that  of  Henry  Y.  William  Caxton, 


28  ROBERT   FABIAN. 

also,  who,  with  great  labor  and  expense,  introduced 
printing  into  England,  wrote  about  this  time,  though 
with  but  inferior  talents.  His  "  Fructus  Temporum  " 
was  simply  the  continuation  of  a  Chronicle  written  by 
the  monks  of  St.  Albans. 

In  the  sixteenth  century  history  left  the  shelter  of  the 
monastery  to  assume  a  more  original  form,  and,  with 
the  Reformation,  appeared  a  new  race  of  historians. 
A  little  in  advance  of  these,  but  evidently  of  the  new 
order,  was  Robert  Fabian,  a  merchant  of  London,  and 
some  years  its  sheriff.  This  learned  merchant  was  a 
poet  and  a  scholar  as  well  an  historian.  He  wrote  the 
history  of  England  from  the  time  of  Brutus  to  the  reign 
of  Henry  YII.  His  remarks  iipon  the  enormous  reve- 
nues of  the  clergy  were  so  free,  that  Cardinal  Wolsey 
seized  and  destroyed  all  the  copies  of  the  work  that 
came  in  his  way.  Edward  Hall,  Recorder,  of  London, 
followed  Fabian,  and  wrote  an  entertaining  account  of 
the  wars  of  York  and  Lancaster ;  he  describes  minutely 
the  manner,  dress,  and  appearance  of  the  English  of 
those  troubled  times. 

The  unhappy  antiquary,  John  Stow,  adorned  and  dis- 
honored the  close  of  the  sixteenth  century.  He  was 
born  in  Cornhill,  London,  in  1523,  and  was  brought  up 
to  his  father's  occupation,  who  was  a  tailor.  A  passion 
for  antiquities,  however,  soon  allured  him  from  his 
trade.  He  studied  with  intense  labor,  and  travelled 
through  a  large  part  of  England  in  search  of  manu- 
script histories  in  the  libraries  of  the  cathedral 


JOHN   SPEED.  29 

churches.  His  first  work,  a  "Summary  of  English. 
History  from  the  time  of  Brute,"  was  published  in 
1573.  In  1598  appeared  his  "  Survey  of  London,"  a 
work  of  wonderful  labor  and  research,  containing  the 
origin,  antiquities,  and  history  of  his  native  city.  He 
had  long  been  occupied  with  an  extensive  history  of 
England,  of  which  his  "  Summary "  was  only  an 
abridgment,  but  could  find  no  publisher  willing  to 
bring  out  so  costly  a  work.  He  therefore  printed  in 
1600,  a  new  abridgment  of  this  history,  the  "Flores 
Historiarum,"  more  extended  than  the  "  Summary," 
but  yet  far  from  fulfilling  the  vast  designs  of  the 
author. 

His  old  age  was  oppressed  by  ill-health  and  poverty. 
The  king  gave  him  a  brief  to  solicit  contributions,  but 
gave  him  nothing  more.  Camden,  who  purchased  some 
of  his  manuscripts,  allowed  him  an  annuity  of  eight 
pounds.  But  to  the  dishonor  of  the  age,  this  excellent 
and  laborious  historian,  this  fearless  and  honest  writer, 
died  at  the  age  of  eighty,  in  extreme  penury.  Bettei 
perhaps  had  he  remained  a  tailor  than  to  have  met  no 
kinder  treatment  as  an  historian. 

John  Speed,  another  tailor  by  profession,  and  of  no 
little  skill  and  renown  in  his  art,  undeterred  by  the  mis- 
fortunes of  his  predecessor,  abandoned  the  goose  to 
become  a  celebrated  writer.  He  wrote  the  history  of 
Great  Britain  during  the  conquests  of  the  Romans, 
Saxons,  Danes,  and  Normans ;  a  work  which  was  hailed 
by  Sir  Henry  Spelman  with  a  copy  of  verses,  and  was 
esteemed  by  all  the  learned  men  of  the  age.  Speed 


30  SIR  EICHAED   BAKEE. 

was  born  in  1553,  and  died  in  1629.  He  had  eighteen 
children,  and  was  certainly,  in  every  way,  the  most 
famous  of  tailors. 

Sir  Richard  Baker,  a  renowned  antiquarian  and 
historian,  of  the  time  of  James  I.  was  of  good  family, 
was  educated  at  Oxford,  and  possessed  a  considerable 
estate.  He  wrote  the  history  of  England  from  the 
Homan  conquest  to  the  close  of  the  reign  of  James  I. : 
his  learning  was  great  and  his  abilities  remarkable. 
But  his  end  was  unhappy.  Having  married  a  daughter 
of  Sir  George  Mainwaring,  of  Shropshire,  he  became 
surety  for  a  member  of  her  family,  lost  his  estate,  and 
was  cast  into  prison,  where  he  died  in  1645. 

With  this  author  I  shall  close  my  sketch  of  the  early 
historians.  As  writers,  with  but  one  or  two  exceptions, 
they  have  no  claim  to  the  notice  of  the  reader,  and  the 
few  particulars  which  are  told  us,  render  their  biogra- 
phies tame  and  uninviting.  It  would  have  been  highly 
entertaining  could  we  have  entered  more  closely  into 
their  private  life — could  we  have  watched  with  Gildas, 
from  the  walls  of  his  monastery,  the  flight  of  the  Picts 
before  the  German  invaders,  or  the  slow  march  of  the 
.Roman  legions  as  they  abandoned  for  ever  the  conquests 
of  Csesar;  could  we  have  studied  the  daily  life  of  the 
venerable  Bede,  or  joined  Ingulphus  in  his  visit  to  the 
court  of  Duke  "William,  and  travelled  with  his  noble 
party  on  their  fashionable  pilgrimage.  But  all  such 
particulars  are  lost ;  and  of  the  early  writers  we  have 
little  more  than  their  names,  and  their  rude  historical 
works,  which  have  preserved  them  from  oblivion. 


SIR  WALTER  RALEIGH. 

SIR  WALTER  RALEIGH  was  born  in  1552,  a  year  re- 
markable, says  the  ancient  chronicler,  for  the  execution 
of  Seymour,  Duke  of  Somerset,  and  for  a  shoal  of  huge 
fish  which  made  their  way  far  up  the  Thames,  events 
which  were  supposed  to  be  prophetic  of  the  adventures 
and  fate  of  the  great  discoverer.  He  was  descended 
from  an  ancient  family,  and  his  mother,  a  woman  of 
remarkable  ability,  had  already,  by  a  former  marriage, 
given  birth  to  the  three  Gilberts,  men  whose  taste  for 
maritime  adventure  had  no  little  share  in  forming  the 
character  of  Raleigh.  Nothing  is  told  of  his  childhood. 
In  his  sixteenth  year  he  entered  Oriel  College,  Oxford, 
where  he  was  known  as  a  brilliant  scholar,  particularly 
in  oratory  and  philosophy.  From  thence  he  went  to  the 
Temple,  but  probably  paid  but  little  attention  to  the  law, 
since  on  his  trial  he  asserted  that  he  had  never  read  a 
single  statute  ;  while  he  could  have  scarcely  been  eigh- 
teen when  he  began  his  military  career. 

Although  we  have  so  few  particulars  of  his  early  life, 
it  is  not  difficult  to  form  some  conception  of  the  pursuits 


32  THE   NATURE   OF   HIS   INTELLECT. 

and  amusements  of  his  studious  youth.  The  love  for 
study,  which  so  marked  his  later  years,  began  no  doubt 
with  his  first  appearance  at  College  and  in  the  Temple. 
His  mind  was  by  nature  speculative  and  inquisitive  ;  he 
delighted  in  the  abstruse  inquiries  of  the  schoolmen,  and 
in  every  species  of  philosophical  research  which  was 
cultivated  before  the  advent  of  Bacon ;  and  it  is  not 
unlikely  that  the  germs  of  those  curious  theories  which 
embarrass  the  reader  of  the  History  of  the  World  were 
suggested  during  his  early  seclusion  at  Oriel  College. 
That  he  was  also  known  among  his  young  companions 
for  a  rare  and  convincing  eloquence,  that  his  fertile  and 
well-stored  intellect  was  capable  of  being  brought  into 
ready  action,  and  that  his  fine  figure  and  graceful  car- 
riage gave  him  much  of  the  physical  influence  of  the 
orator  we  may  readily  believe.  But  in  addition  to  these 
peculiar  gifts,  Raleigh  possessed  the  higher  instincts  of 
the  poet.  His  mind  seems  to  have  dwelt  incessantly 
upon  the  two  noblest  themes  of  the  poet's  art,  religion 
and  love. 

In  his  religious  feelings,  if  we  may  judge  them  by 
their  poetical  expression,  he  inclined  towards  those 
stricter  views  which  the  party  of  the  puritans  were  grad- 
ually infusing  into  the  intellect  of  the  age.  His  verses 
teem  with  expressions  of  self  humiliation,  of  contempt  for 
the  outward  glories  of  the  world,  and  of  a  desire  to  fall 
into  a  perfect  communion  with  the  Deity.  JSTo  Bunyan  or 
Baxter  ever  composed  hymns  more  justly  unfolding  the 
purest  aspirations  of  Christianity  than  do  several  of  these 


HIS   DEVOTIONAL  VERSES.  33 

devotional  lyrics  of  the  worldly  Kaleigh.*  It  is  through 
them  that  we  gain  a  clearer  insight  into  his  peculiar 
character  and  discover  that  while  madly  engaged  in  a 
strife  for  wealth  and  power  and  the  triumphs  of  the  world, 
he  was  in  secret  sighing  for  that  inward  peace  whieh 
flows  only  from  their  complete  renunciation. 

These  religious  poems  are  constantly  .produced  from 
the  beginning  to  the  close  of  his  life.  His  "  Pilgrimage," 
supposed  to  have  been  written  between  his  sentence  and 
his  execution,  pursues  the  same  strain  of  confident  trust 

*  One  of  his  hymns  is  as  follows : 

Rise,  oh  my  soul,  with  thy  desires  to  Heaven, 

And  with  Divinest  contemplations  use 
Thy  time  when  Time's  eternity  is  given, 

And  let  vain  thoughts  no  more  thy  thought  abuse. 
To  thee,  oh  Jesus,  I  direct  my  eyes, 

To  thee  my  hands,  to  thee  my  humble  knees, 
To  thee  my  heart  shall  offer  sacrifice, 

To  thee  my  thought,  who  my  thought  only  sees. 
To  thee  myself,  myself  and  all  I  give. 
To  thee  I  die,  to  thee  I  only  live. 

See  the  collection  of  Raleigh's  poems  by  Sir  Egerton  Bridges. 

The  following  from  a  dialogue  between  God  and  the  Soul  will  also  give  some  concep- 
tion of  the  depth  and  truth  of  his  religious  impressions.    He  writes : 

SOUL. 

But  Lord,  what  if  I  turn  again, 
And  with  an  adamantine  chain, 
Lock  me  to  thee  ?    What  if  I  chase 
The  world  away  to  give  thee  place. 


Then  though  the  souls  in  whom  I  joy 
Are  Seraphims— then  but  a  toy— 
A  foolish  toy,  yet  once  more  I 
Would  with  thee  live  and  for  thee  die. 


34:  HIS   LOVE   OF   NATUKE. 

in  faith  and  the  hope  of  salvation.*  And  the  "  Fare- 
well," also  attributed  to  this  period  of  humiliation  and 
despair,  dwells  upon  the  same  consoling  theme.  An 
opinion  has  long  prevailed  that  Raleigh  was  a  skeptic, 
•ne  of  the  earliest  of  the  school  in  England,  and  Hume 
with  secret  triumph  claims  him  as  a  friend  to  free 
thinking.  But  these  hymns  and  poems,  speaking  as 
they  must  have  done  the  inmost  impulses  of  his  nature, 
show  him  to  have  belonged  to  the  class  of  practical, 
rather  than  theoretical,  unbelievers. 

His  youthful  verses,  too,  are  often  upon  the  common 
theme  of  poets,  love,  and  when  writing  upon  this  topic 
his  thoughts  seem  to  flow  more  easily  and  melodiously 
than  when  expressing  the  higher  aspirations  of  faith. 
His  verse  softens,  his  images  are  finer,  and  his  language 
pleases  by  its  naturalness  and  ease.f  He  loved  nature 

*  Give  me  my  scallop  shell  of  quiet, 
My  staff  of  faith  to  walk  upon, 
My  scrip  of  joy,  immortal  diet, 
My  bottle  of  salvation, 
My  gown  of  glory  (Hope's  true  gage), 
And  then  I'll  take  my  pilgrimage. 

t  In  his  "  Country  Recreations"  he  writes  as  follows  : 
Abused  mortals,  did  you  know 
Where  joy,  heart's  ease,  and  comfort  grow, 

You'd  scorn  proud  towers, 

And  seek  them  in  the  bowers, 

Where  winds  sometimes  our  woods  perhaps  may  shake, 
But  blustering  care  could  never  make. 

Nor  murmurs  e'er  come  nigh  us, 

Saving  of  fountains  that  glide  by  us. 

Blest  silent  groves  ?  Oh,  may  ye  be 
Forever  thought's  best  nursery, 


HIS   AMBITION   AND   PEIDE.  35 

and  the  scenes  of  rustic  life,  amid  all  the  pomp  and  arti- 
ficial splendor  of  the  court,  and  his  mind  recalls  with 
delight  the  images  of  simple  contentment,  and  seems  to 
lament  continually  the  exchange  which  he  had  made  of 
quiet  pleasures,  a  pure  conscience,  and  an  assured  faith, 
for  the  uncertain,  restless  and  weary  existence  of  the 
courtier. 

With  all  these  higher  elements  of  character,  Raleigh 
joined  a  violent  ambition,  a  stern  pride,  and  an  unbound- 
ed passion  for  renown.  These  latter  passions,  fostered 
by  the  circumstances  amid  which  he  was  thrown,  soon 
overmastered  his  religious  and  poetical  impulses,  and 
drove  him  from  that  calm  haven  of  rest  which  his 
fancy  dwelt  upon  so  fondly  in  moments  of  reflection,  to 
take  part  in  the  most  active  and  least  scrupulous  move- 
ments of  the  time.  He  became  a  soldier,  fearless, 
cruel,  and  unsparing ;  a  courtier  intriguing,  dark, 

.    May  pure  contents, 

Forever  pitch  their  tents 

Upon  these  downs,  these  meads,  these  rocks,  these  mountains, 
And  peace  still  slumber  by  these  passing  fountains. 

The  thought  in  the  following  verses,  and  the  flow  of  the  rhythm,  show  the  spirit  of  a 
true  poet  : 

Passions  are  likened  but  to  floods  and  streams, 

The  shallow  murmur  but  the  deep  are  dumb  ; 
So  when  affections  yield  discourse,  it  seems 

The  bottom  is  but  shallow  whence  they  come. 

They  that  are  rich  in  words  must  needs  discover 

They  are  but  poor  in  that  which  makes  a  lover. 
Wrong  not,  sweet  mistress  of  my  heart, 

The  merit  of  true  passion, 
With  thinking  that  he  feels  no  smart, 

Who  sues  for  no  compassion. 


36  RALEIGH'S  APPEARANCE. 

revengeful;  a  buccaneer  who  pursued  his  prey  with 
as  little  remorse  of  conscience  as  a  Kid  or  a  Morgan : 

O  / 

and  it  is  easy  to  imagine  that  amid  the  storms  of  violent 
passion  which  so  incessantly  agitated  his  breast,  his 
life  could  never  have  been  happy,  and  that  he  must 
often  have  recurred  with  a  bitter  pang  to  the  sense  of 
what  it  might  have  been  had^  he  lived  true  to  the  purer 
and  better  part  of  his  nature. 

Raleigh,  in  his  youth  as  well  as  in  later  years,  pos- 
sessed a  fine  form,  a  commanding  appearance,  a  frame 
accustomed  to  exercise,  and  accomplished  in  all  manly 
pursuits.  He  was  fond  of  labor,  activity,  and  enterprise. 
To  the  highest  intellectual  advantage,  therefore,  Haleigh 
added  all  those  physical  qualities  which  attract  the 
admiration,  of  the  multitude,  and  contribute  so  largely 
to  success  in  the  struggle  for  distinction.  Nature  had 
already  marked  him  as  one  of  her  peculiar  favorites, 
and  it  is  easy  to  conceive,  that  as  he  surveyed  his  own 
personal  advantages,  and  felt  a  proud  consciousness  of 
his  own  superiority,  his  ambition  even  in  early  youth 
was  fired,  his  self-reliance  grew  strong,  and  that  he 
resolved  to  play  no  common  part  among  the  great 
events  that  were  passing  around  him. 

It  was  now  the  most  brilliant  period  of  the  Eliza- 
bethan era.  That  energetic  queen  had  already  given  a 
new  impulse  to  British  intellect,  and  had  elevated  her 
narrow  island  kingdom  to  a  place  in  the  politics  of 
Europe  such  as  it  had  never  held  before.  Her  daring 
policy  called  forth  all  the  energies  of  her  subjects  and 


ELIZABETH    SENDS    AID   TO   THE   PKOTESTANTS.  37 

her  example  inspired  them  with  a  stern  self-reliance 
that  became  the  source  of  all  their  unrivalled  achieve- 
ments. 

The  period  in  which  she  reigned  was  favorable  for 
the  display  of  Elizabeth's  uncommon  abilities.  Pro- 
testantism, upon  the  continent,  heretofore  neglected  or 
despised,  was  now  everywhere  persecuted  and  op- 
pressed. Its  adherents  had  risen  against  their  oppres- 
sors. In  France  a  fierce  contest  was  raging  in  -which 
the  Protestants  had  succeeded  in  baffling  all  the 
attempts  of  their  opponents  to  subdue  or  exterminate 
them.  In  Germany  and  the  Netherlands  a  similar 
contest  had  arisen,  and  the  Reformers  of  Europe  natu- 
rally turned  for  sympathy  and  aid  to  that  virgin  Queen 
who,  in  her  youth,  had  herself  experienced  all  the 
violence  and  cruelty  of  the  rival  sect.  Endangered  at 
home  by  the  intrigues  of  the  Catholics  and  their  foreign 
abettors,  Elizabeth  listened  with  pleasure  to  the  appeal 
of  the  foreign  Reformers,  and  had  resolved  by  fostering 
the  growth  of  religious  freedom  abroad,  to  give  suffi- 
cient employment  to  the  kings  of  France  and  Spain  in 
their  own  dominions.  She  sent  soldiers  and  money  to 
the  Protestant  leaders,  whenever  they  seemed  to  require 
aid ;  and  although  always  frugal  and  prudent,  rendered 
them  effectual  support.  Her  people  were  soon  inspired 
by  her  unflinching  spirit,  and  England  began  to  pro- 
duce heroes  and  statesmen  worthy  of  their  queen. 

Entering  life  at  such  a  crisis,  when  the  safety,  and  the 
defence  of  the  nation  called  for  the  aid  of  all  its  bravest 


38  RALEIGH   IN    THE   CAMP    OF   COLIGNY. 

spirits,  Raleigh,  naturally  looked  for  preferment  to  a 
military  career.  Born  with  little  besides  gentle  birth 
and  natural  advantages  to  aid  him  in  the  struggle  for 
advancement,  he  had  apparently  no  other  choice.  His 
family  was  poor  although  ancient,  and  Raleigh,  a  fourth 
son,  could  expect  but  little  from  the  decayed  estates  of 
his  knightly  ancestors.  He  seized,  therefore,  an  oppor- 
tunity of  distinction  offered  by  the  expedition  in  aid  of 
the  Queen  of  Navarre,  and  joined  the  hundred  gentle- 
men who,  with  their  followers,  set  out  for  France  to  take 
part  in  the  wars  of  the  League.  English,  valor  was 
appreciated  on  the  continent,  and  the  recruits  were 
received  with,  great  joy  by  the  struggling  Protestants. 
Here,  in  the  camp  of  the  Huguenots  under  Cond6  and 
Coligny,  Raleigh  passed  five  years  of  his  youth.  Noth- 
ing is  recorded  of  this  period.  He  no  doubt  learned 
much  of  the  world,  and  something  from  books,  since  he 
afterwards  showed  a  wide  acquaintance  with  both.  Nor 
is  it  likely  that  so  active  an  intellect,  at  a  period  when 
the  mind  is  usually  most  busy,  could  have  viewed  the 
new  scenes  into  which  it  was  thrown  without  much  last- 
ing profit.  It  is  said  that  he  was  in  Paris  at  the  mas- 
sacre of  St.  Bartholomew,  and  narrowly  escaped  by 
taking  refuge  with  the  British  Ambassador. 

Soon  after  he  returned  to  England,  and  for  a  time  his 
active  mind  seems  to  have  sought  repose.  He  took 
rooms  in  the  Middle  Temple,  and  resigned  himself  to 
love  and  poetry.  His  early  verses  are  the  only  record 
of  this  portion  of  his  life.  They  have  chiefly  an  amor- 


HIS  TASTES   W  POETRY.  39 

ous  turn  and  savor  something  of  that  grace  and  license 
which  mark  the  French  writers  of  the  period.  His 
taste  was  already  well  trained ;  he  wrote  with  smooth 
and  accurate  rhythm,  his  fancy  teemed  with  the  fairest 
images  of  nature.  These  traits  show  that  he  had  long 
studied  and  practised  poetry ;  and  that  often  during  the 
idle  hours  of  camp  life,  while  following  the  banner  of 
Coligny,  he  had  beguiled  the  tedious  interval  by  culti- 
vating his  poetical  talent.  It  is  not  likely  that  Raleigh 
could  ever  become  a  great  poet,  since  he  was  wholly 
wanting  in  sensibility.  His  feelings  were  never  deep 
nor  strong.  But  he  was  peculiarly  imaginative.  From 
youth  to  age,  he  was  always  influenced  by  some  bright 
vision  playing  before  his  mind,  which  promised  some 
sudden  accession  of  fame,  or  wealth,  or  happiness.  Per- 
haps in  his  earlier  hours  he  pleased  himself  with  the 
dream  of  excelling  in  poetry,  and  of  assuming  that  place 
in  English  literature,  which  afterwards  fell  to  the  lot  of 
his  friend  Edmund  Spenser. 

But  the  pause  in  his  active  life  was  short.  He  was 
born  to  handle  the  battle-axe  rather  than  the  lyre.  His 
dream  of  love  and  poetry  was  broken  by  the  clamor  of 
the  trumpet.  Elizabeth  having  given  effectual  aid  to 
French  Protestants,  now  prepared  to  sustain  the 
Reformers  in  the  Netherlands.  She  felt  that  she  could 
not  better  secure  her  own  safety,  than  by  employing 
the  Spaniards  in  their  own  territories.  The  Dutch  were 
valiantly  fighting  for  their  lives  against  the  enormous 
resources  of  Phillip  II.  Should  they  fall,  but  a  narrow 


40  THE   DANGEK   OF   ELIZABETH. 

sea  would  separate  Protestant  England  from  the  rack, 
the  inquisition,  and  the  avenging  armies  of  Spain.  A  per- 
sonal feeling,  too,  mingled  with  Elizabeth's  policy.  Mary 
of  Scotland  was  her  prisoner.  The  fate  of  the  fallen 
queen  had  won  the  sympathy  of  Catholic  Europe.  In 
all  their  designs  against  England,  the  Catholic  rulers 
were  stimulated  by  the  danger  of  one  of  their  own 
order,  a  prisoner  in  the  power  of  her  heretic  rival.  The 
stern  character  of  Elizabeth  assured  them  that  the  life 
of  Mary  was  not  safe.  Her  crimes  were  forgotten  in  her 
imminent  peril.  She  became  to  many  Catholics  an 
object  of  chivalrous  affection  and  veneration.  Don 
John  of  Austria,  the  son  of  Charles  Y.  was  now  Spanish 
governor  of  the  Netherlands.  His  military  achieve- 
ments, his  haughtiness,  cruelty  and  bigotry,  had  made 
his  name  hateful  and  terrible  to  Protestants.  Don  John 
espoused  the  cause  of  Mary.  He  declared  his  intention 
to  lead  his  army  into  England,  and  having  rescued  the 
imprisoned  queen,  to  marry  her  and  seat  himself  upon 
the  throne.  The  rumor  of  his  design  reached  the  ears 
of  Elizabeth.  It  had  two  effects.  It  hastened  the 
death  of  Mary,  and  secured  the  freedom  of  the  Nether- 
lands. 

Elizabeth  furnished  the  Dutch  with  men  and  money. 
Raleigh  went  with  these  forces  to  Holland  in  1577.  He 
was  once  again  to  fight  on  the  side  of  the  Reformers, 
and  here  in  the  struggle  with  Spanish  cruelty  and 
tyranny,  he  learned  that  hostility  to  Spain  which  was 
the  source  of  his  most  renowned  exploits.  At  the  battle 


RALEIGH   A   DISCOVERER.  41 

of  Rimenant,  where  Don  John  was  defeated,  the  English 
and  Scotch  troops  came  late  upon  the  field.  As  they 
arrived  weary  with  marching  and  overpowered  by  heat, 
they  flung  aside  their  armor,  and  even  their  dress,  and 
rushed  almost  naked  upon  the  foe.  Tims  Raleigh 
studied  the  art  of  war  on  the  great  fields  of  the  conti- 
nent. After  two  years  of  service  he  returned  to  Eng- 
land. A  new  impulse  was  beginning  to  move  the  minds 
of  his  countrymen,  the  spirit  of  discovery. 

Raleigh  had  all  the  elements  of  a  discoverer.  He 
was  poor,  adventurous,  fearless.  His  poetical  tempera- 
ment glowed  at  the  thought  of  a  new  world  to  conquer, 
and  his  bold  fancy  filled  its  unknown  depths  with  popu- 
lous and  wealthy  empires,  with  mines  of  gold  and  cities 
adorned  with  streets  of  silver.  He  had  evidently  been 
a  diligent  reader  of  those  marvellous  books  of  travel 
which  amused  and  startled  the  credulity  of  the  age. 
In  his  history  of  the  world  he  makes  use  of  several 
narratives  of  distant  voyages,  and  even  places  some 
faith  in  Sir  John  Mandeville.  His  knowledge  of  the 
exploits  of  Cortes  and  Pizarro  was  full  and  accurate. 
Over  their  marvellous  achievements  he  seems  to  have 
pondered  unceasingly,  until  it  became  one  leading 
purpose  of  his  life  to  discover  a  second  Mexico  amid 
the  wilderness  of  America. 

His  step-brothers,  the  two  Gilberts,  were  famous 
mariners.  Sir  Humphrey  had  obtained  a  patent  for 
planting  and  possessing  certain  northern  parts  of  Ame- 
rica above  the  25th  degree.  The  coast  from  Florida 


42  HIS   FIKST   ATTEMPT  TO   SETTLE   AMERICA. 

to  Newfoundland  was  as  yet  unknown.  A  company 
was  formed  to  make  a  settlement  upon  Newfoundland. 
Many,  hoping  great  profit,  joined  in  the  scheme. 
Ships  were  prepared,  but  before  they  could  sail,  the 
adventurers  quarrelled.  Some  refused  subjection. 
Others  ,  could  not  perform  what  they  had  promised. 
The  majority  dispersed,  leaving  Sir  Humphrey  with  a 
few  friends,  among  whom  was  Raleigh,  to  continue  the 
adventure.  The  small  squadron  put  to  sea,  was  met 
by  a  Spanish  fieet,  and  after  a  severe  action  was  forced 
to  return.  Thus  unsuccessful  w^as  his  first  attempt  at 
colonization.  But  the  idea  had  sunk  deep  into  his 
mind  that  fame  and  wealth  awaited  him  in  America — 
that  there  he  should  perform  deeds  that  should  make 
his  name  immortal,  and  win  possessions  for  England, 
over  wrhich  he  might  reign  with  the  pomp  of  a  sove- 
reign prince.  This  vision  he  pursued  through  dangers, 
Bufferings,  disappointment,  and  despair,  until  it  plunged 
him  in  poverty  and  brought  him  to  the  block.  Yet 
the  dream  has  been  at  length  fulfilled.  The  world  has 
awarded  deathless  fame  to  Raleigh  for  his  efforts  to 
colonize  America.  A  great  nation  has  arisen  upon 
the  land  which  he  first  pointed  out  as  worthy  to  be  a 
nation's  birth-place.  And  in  her  transatlantic  posses- 
sions England  has  found  richer  mines  than  any  discov- 
ered by  Cortes  or  Pizarro. 

His  next  field  of  action  was  Ireland.  The  Roman 
Catholics  of  that  island  were  preparing  to  revolt.  Wai- 
was  not  openly  declared  between  Philip  and  Elizabeth, 


LORD   GKET.  43 

but  the  former  seized  the  opportunity  to  repay  those  ill 
offices  which  the  Queen  had  done  him  in  the  Nether- 
lands. Seven  hundred  Spanish  and  Italian  troops  were 
landed  in  Ireland  with  a  banner  blessed  by  the  Pope 
and  a  priest  dignified  with  the  title  of  Nuncio.  They 
built  a  fort  at  Smerwick  in  Kerry,  while  the  Irish 
rebels,  under  their  leaders  the  Desmonds,  hastened  to 
join  them.  Among  the  English  forces  who  marched 
against  them  was  Raleigh,  who  had  now  risen  to  be  a 
captain.  It  is  stated  that  when  Sir  James  Desmond 
was  taken  he  was  put  under  the  charge  of  Sir  "Warham 
St.  Leger  and  Captain  Raleigh,  by  whom  in  virtue 
of  a  commission  directed  to  them  he  was  tried  and 
executed. 

Lord  Grey  had  come  over  as  Deputy  from  England 
to  crush  the  rebellion  at  a  blow.  He  approached  the 
Spaniards  with  eight  hundred  horse  and  foot.  Raleigh 
was  with  him  and  signalized  himself  by  an  exploit. 
He  observed  that  as  the  army  left  their  encampment, 
the  Irish  kerns  or  peasants  entered  and  plundered  what- 
ever was  left.  He  laid  in  wait  near  the  camp,  until  he 
saw  the  Irish  rush  into  the  place,  and  then  coming  upon 
them  suddenly  took  them  all  prisoners.  There  was  one 
who  carried  a  bundle  of  withes.  "When  asked  what 
they  were  meant  for,  he  coldly  replied,  "  To  hang  up 
English  churls."  "  Is  it  so  ?"  said  Kaleigh,  "  then  they 
shall  serve  now  for  Irish."  He  ordered  the  man  to  be 
strung  up  with  his  own  withes. 

Meanwhile  Grey  besieged  the  Spanish  fort  by  sea  and 


44  RALEIGH   AND   SPENSER. 

land.  He  sent  an  officer  to  demand  from  them  the 
object  of  their  coming.  They  replied  "  that  the  Holy 
Father  had  given  the  realm  to  Philip,  and  that  Philip 
meant  to  recover  it  out  of  the  power  of  the  schismatic 
Elizabeth."  While  the  parley  was  going  on  the  Span- 
iards made  a  sally,  but  Raleigh  was  on  the  watch.  He 
attacked  the  assailants  with  great  valor,  and  drove  them 
back  into  their  camp.  After  five  days'  siege  the  fort  sur- 
rendered. Lord  Grey,  with  unusual  cruelty,  put  the 
whole  garrison  to  death.  Barbarous  as  was  the  military 
policy  of  the  age,  even  Elizabeth  disapproved  of  this 
needless  severity.  Yet  Lord  Grey  was  a  man  of  much 
refinement.  He  had  chosen  the  poet  Spenser  as  his 
Secretary,  to  attend  him  into  Ireland.  The  grateful 
poet  defends  the  conduct  of  his  friend  in  his  "view  of 
the  state  of  L-eland,"  by  urging  that  Grey  had  never 
promised  the  Spaniards  their  lives.  He  seems  to  think 
the  offence  easily  pardonable,  so  long  as  Grey  had  not 
violated  his  honor. 

Here  Raleigh  and  Spenser  became  first  acquainted. 
They  could  hardly  meet  without  becoming  friends.  Yet 
their  intercourse  was  not  frequent  until  later. 

Raleigh  became  famous  in  Ireland  for  his  partisan 
exploits.  The  rebellion  half  suppressed,  still  lingered 
among  the  fastnesses,  and  in  the  unsettled  portion  of  the 
country.  Many  of  the  discontented  nobility  were  plot- 
ting a  general  rising  against  the  English  rule.  Over 
these  Raleigh,  stationed  in  garrison  at  Cork,  kept  a  close 
watch.  Once  he  went  up  to  Dublin  with  but  few  attend- 


RALEIGH   WEAKY   OF   IRELAND.  45 

ants,  to  complain  to  the  Lord  Deputy  of  some  noted 
offenders.  His  enemies  prepared  to  intercept  his  return. 
The  seneschal  of  Imokelly  lay  in  ambush  011  the  banks 
of  a  stream  which  he  must  cross,  with  a  large  body  of 
natives.  Fortunately  Raleigh  arrived  when  the  enemy 
was  dispersed.  He  dashed  through  the  ford  singly, 
attained  the  opposite  bank  and  defended  himself  suc- 
cessfully until  his  companions  had  crossed. 

In  1581,  when  Ormond  left  Ireland,  Raleigh  was 
one  of  the  three  commissioners  left  in  charge  of  the 
government  of  Munster.  Here  he  was  constantly  em- 
ployed against  the  enemy.  He  attacked  Barry,  a  noted 
Irish  partisan  with  superior  force,  and  totally  defeated 
him.  With  only  six  horse,  he  threw  himself  upon  a 
large  party  of  natives,  and  drove  them  before  him  until 
they  fell  into  the  hands  of  his  foot  soldiers.  With  his 
small  company  of  eighty  foot  and  eight  horsemen,  he 
rode  through  the  rebellious  districts  without  meeting  a 
reverse. 

Eut  this  rude  life  among  the  barbarous  Irish,  wearied 
Raleigh.  Here  was  little  fame  to  be  acquired,  and  no 
prospect  of  improving  his  fortune.  He  pined  like  an 
exile.  He  scorned  the  petty  warfare  in  which  he  was 
engaged,  and  longed  for  some  fitting  field  for  those  tal- 
ents of  which  he  felt  conscious.  Was  he  to  pass  the 
best  days  of  his  manhood  in  fighting  Irish  kerns?  "  I 
disdain  it,"  said  he,  in  a  letter  to  the  Earl  of  Leicester, 
"  almost  as  much  as  to  keep  sheep." 

A  new  scene  was  to  open  to  him.     Elizabeth  was  form 


ing  her  remarkable  court.  Slie  felt  tliat  in  the  perils  by 
which  she  was  encompassed  she  needed  to  be  surrounded 
by  wise  and  valiant  men.  With  keen  penetration  she 
selected  from  among  her  subjects  all  who  could  be  use- 
ful to  her  in  war  or  in  politics.  Her  courtiers  were  men 
with  frames  hardened  upon  the  battle-field,  with  minds 
large,  vigorous,  and  commanding.  In  the  society  of 
such  attendants  the  queen  delighted.  She  delighted  in 
mental  and  moral  greatness  as  much  as  in  mere  physical 
beauty.  Her  courtiers  were  all  eminent  for  a  union  of 
excellences.  They  were  graceful,  learned,  brave,  and 
usually  of  remarkable  personal  attractions. 

Her  weaknesses  were  vanity  and  love.  She  was  vain 
of  her  sandy  hair,  her  angular  features,  her  awkward 
gait,  and  haughty  mien.  She  believed  herself  the  most 
accomplished,  and  the  most  learned,  the  most  beautiful, 
and  the  most  captivating  of  living  women.  She  ex- 
pected all  men  to  die  of  love  for  her,  but  unlike  most 
coquettes,  she  did  not  escape  the  fatal  passion  herself. 
There  is  no  doubt  that  she  loved  Leicester  violently, 
that  she  died  of  grief  at  seventy  for  the  sake  of  the 
beautiful  and  misguided  Essex.  Her  affections  were 
not  constant,  and  several  of  her  gifted  courtiers,  among 
whom  was  Raleigh,  touched  the  heart  of  the  haughty 
queen. 

From  amid  her  weaknesses  the  strength  of  Elizabeth's 
character  becomes  more  evident.  Her  woman's  frailty 
could  not  cloud  her  strong  intellect,  or  change  her  grand 
designs.  She  steadily  pursued  her  plan  of  humbling 


KALEIGH   MADE    KNOWN   TO   ELIZABETH.  47 

Philip,  and  of  preserving  Protestantism,  while  listening 
to  the  compliments  of  Leicester  or  the  more  earnest 
passion  of  Essex.  The  language  of  extravagant  admi- 
ration with  which  her  courtiers  were  accustomed  to 
address  her,  was  not  wholly  insincere.  Her  lofty  genius 
united  to  a  royal  station,  dazzled  and  overwhelmed  their 
minds.  The  strongest  minds  of  her  subjects  might  well 
bow  before  that  absolute  monarch,  who  by  her  wisdom 
and  vigilance  ensured  the  prosperity  and  glory  of  her 
people  ;  whose  haughty  self-will  inspired  almost  as  much 
dread  in  her  own  House  of  Commons  as  it  did  within 
the  walls  of  Madrid.  Her  frailties  were  overlooked  in 
that  halo  of  veneration  and  awe  in  which  her  proudest 
subjects  delighted  to  veil  her. 

Raleigh  was  now  to  be  made  known  to  Elizabeth. 
He  possessed  every  quality  which  she  most  prized.  He 
was  in  the  first  strength  of  manhood.  He  was  about 
six  feet  in  height,  his  form  strong,  compact  and  grace- 
ful. He  wore  the  flowing  beard  and  moustache  of  the 
time,  and  his  dark  hair  cut  short,  waved  slightly  around 
his  brow.  In  dressing  he  always  excelled.  His  armor 
was  of  the  choicest  workmanship ;  his  laces  of  the  most 
costly  kind.  Upon  one  of.  his  court  suits  the  jewels 
alone  were  valued  at  sixty  thousand  pounds,  and  those 
on  his  shoes  exceeded  in  value  six  thousand  pieces  of 
gold.  His  manners  were  stately,  yet  polished,  and  he 
had  that  deferential,  awe-struck  bearing  which  Elizabeth 
so  loved  to  receive  from  men  of  eminent  personal  and 
physical  attractions.  He  spoke  with  ease,  readiness, 


4:8  THEIR  FIRST   INTERVIEW. 

and  plausibility.  He  knew  how  to  touch  the  delicate 
chords  of  vanity,  to  awake  to  pity  and  to  admiration,  to 
present  the  wide  knowledge  of  which  he  was  possessed 
in  the  most  alluring  and  agreeable  form. 

But  he  had  a  higher  claim  to  the  esteem  of  Elizabeth. 
He  was  a  soldier,  tried  in  fiercest  contests  of  the  time. 
He  had  fought  in  France,  in  Holland,  and  in  Ireland, 
and  had  gained  a  practical  knowledge  of  military  affairs, 
such  as  few  of  his  contemporaries  could  have  possessed. 
His  reputation  for  courage  had  reached  England.  He 
had  gained  the  notice  and  perhaps  the  patronage  of  the 
Earl  of  Leicester.  Lords  Grey  and  Ormond  could  both 
tell  how  bravely  the  young  captain  had  borne  himself 
through  the  desultory  campaigns  in  Ireland.  Elizabeth 
no  doubt  ere  now  had  heard  his  name  mentioned  with 
honor  as  a  brave  soldier,  and  a  daring  leader.  She  was 
prepared  to  receive  with  approving  smiles  thejman  who 
had  already  done  her  good  services,  and  was  likely  to 
be  of  constant  use  in  her  future  warlike  schemes. 

The  tradition  of  the  first  interview  between  Raleigh 
and  the  queen  is  well  known,  though  of  doubtful 
authenticity,  but  which,  as  it  is  not  altogether  improba- 
ble, I  shall  not  omit.  It  is  said  that  while  Elizabeth 
was  once  walking  out  with  her  attendants,  she  encoun- 
tered a  wet  spot  in  the  road.  She  hesitated,  uncertain 
how  to  advance,  when  Raleigh  gracefully  approached, 
and  taking  from  his  shoulders  a  rich  mantle,  flung  it 
down  before  the  queen.  She  passed  safely  over,  and 
then  turned  to  survey  the  author  of  the  unusual  act  of 


gallantry.  She  was  charmed  by  his  appearance  as  much 
as  by  his  politeness,  and  is  said  to  have  promised  that, 
"  the  loss  of  one  suit  should  be  the  gain  of  many  to 
him." 

The  promise  was  kept.  The  graceful,  gallant  Raleigh, 
who  but  lately  mourned  his  banishment  amid  the  wilds 
of  Ireland,  became  a  star  of  that  brilliant  court  which 
had  been  chosen  with  such  discriminating  care  by  Eliza- 
beth. His  was  a  nature  in  which  the  queen  delighted. 
It  was  kindred  to  her  own.  She  could  understand  that 
poetical  temperament  that  glowed  with  happiness  in  her 
favor,  and  sank  into  despair  beneath  her  frown.  She 
could  read  with  satisfaction  that  vehement  ambition, 
which  she  meant  not  to  gratify  wholly,  but  rather  to  in- 
flame "by  gradual  advancement,  and  devote  to  the  ser- 
vice of  her  realm  in  distant  exploits.  She  heard  with  a 
growing  tenderness  those  protestations  of  admiration 
and  passionate  regard  which  Raleigh  soon  learned  were 
the  surest  paths  to  the  favor  of  his  stately  mistress. 

The  court  into  which  Raleigh  came  shone  with  genius 
and  beauty.  There,  the  chief  favorite  for  many  years, 
and  with  a  power  apparently  immovable,  reigned  the 
fair-faced,  haughty,  vindictive  Leicester.  His  power 
over  the  Queen  seemed  assured  by  some  secret  bond 
which  held  even  her  proud  nature  in  check ;  for  she 
never  dared  to  cast  him  wholly  aside,  even  when,  she 
was  convinced  of  his  faithlessness,  and  provoked  by  his 
cowardice  and  misconduct  in  Holland.  There,  too,  was 
Sir  Philip  Sidney,  nephew  of  Leicester,  the  author  of 

3 


50  SIDNEY  AND  BACON. 

an  able  defence  of  poetry,  a  poet  himself,  a  brave  soldier, 
and  a  pure  and  virtuous  man.  He  died  at  thirty-two  ; 
yet,  though  so  young,  the  fame  of  his  genius  and  his 
virtues  had  spread  over  Europe,  at  a  time  when  fame 
travelled  slowly.  The  nobles  of  Poland  had  chosen 
Sidney  for  their  king,  but  Elizabeth  forbade  him  to 
accept  the  crown.  There,  too,  was  Francis  Bacon,  a 
reformer  in  mental  science  as  renowned  as  Luther  in 
religion,  a  courtier  as  assiduous  as  if  he  had  not  pos- 
sessed that  mighty  intellect  which  elevated  him  far 
above  kings,  and  priests,  and  nobles.  There  was  Bur- 
leigh,  the  astute,  "Walsingham,  the  keen  detector  of  those 
endless  plots  which  so  often  threatened  death  or  deposi- 
tion to  the  virgin  queen.  There  at  intervals  shone  Spen- 
ser, the  beloved  friend  of  Sidney  and  -Raleigh,  the  bard 
whose  sweet  notes  first  discovered  the  melting  harmony 
of  the  English  tongue.  There,  too,  came  Shakspeare 
when  masks  and  plays  were  to  be  performed  before  the 
queen,  unconscious  of  his  own  greatness,  and  abandoning 
to  the  care  of  careless  copyists  that  fame  which  was  to 
be  England's  proudest  possession,  abandoning  to  igno- 
rant transcribers  those  matchless  plays,  to  restore  whose 
original  purity  Pope  and  "Warburton  and  Johnson  were 
to  spend  years  of  fruitless  labor.  There,  perhaps,  came 
the  gifted  bricklayer,  rare  Ben  Jonson,  and  the  poetical 
atheist,  Marlowe.  There  finally  came  Essex,  the  friend 
of  all  men  of  genius,  the  sweet  and  winning  companion, 
the  beloved  even  to  death  by  his  chosen  friends,  whose 
beautiful  person,  whose  melancholy,  pensive  eye,  whose 


ELIZABETH   KEEPS   HEK   COUETEEKS   EMPLOYED.  51 

nobility  of  birth,  of  bearing,  and  disposition,  so  won  the 
heart  of  the  maiden  queen,  that  she  died  of  grief  for  his 
loss,  even  though  he  had  fallen  justly  a  convicted  traitor 
and  a  conspirator  against  her  person. 

Such  were  Raleigh's  peers.  Yet  among  these  eminent 
men  prevailed  a  bitter  and  unceasing  rivalry.  Bacon 
was  a  low  and  subtile  intriguer  for  office ;  Leicester 
frowned  upon  every  new  pretender  to  the  favor  of  the 
Queen.  Raleigh,  himself,  became  soon  immersed  in 
intrigues  for  his  own  advancement,  and  in  deep  schemes 
for  destroying  his  rivals.  Essex,  rising  without  effort  to 
power,  was  driven  by  the  malicious  tales  of  his  followers 
to  look  upon  Raleigh  as  a  traitorous  foe.  Cecil,  Bur- 
leigh,  Hat-ton,  Vere,  and  Howard,  with  their  innumera- 
ble friends,  rivals,  or  enemies,  completed  the  realm  of 
misrule,  and  led  the  gentle  Spenser  to  rejoice  in  his 
Irish  solitude  that  sheltered  him  from  the  "  enormities" 
of  the  court. 

It  was  Elizabeth's  policy  to  keep  her  courtiers  from 
idleness.  Some  she  employed  in  stately  pageants, 
some  upon  distant  embassies,  and  others  in  war  or  nego- 
tiation. Raleigh  was  soon  made  of  use.  He  was 
ordered  to  attend  to  Antwerp,  Simier,  the  envoy  sent 
over  by  the  Duke  of  Anjou  to  negotiate  his  marriage 
with  the  queen.  He  now  first  became  acquainted  with 
some  of  the  court  "  enormities,"  and  narrowly  escaped 
falling  a  victim  to  the  vindictive  Leicester.  The  favo- 
rite had  opposed  the  marriage  with  all  his  influence. 
Simier,  cunning  and  bold,  had  discovered  that  the  earl 


52  THE   DUKE   OF   ANJOU. 

was  himself  privately  married.  To  destroy  his  influ- 
ence he  had  revealed  the  fatal  secret  to  Elizabeth.  Her 
rage  and  grief  were  boundless,  and  Simier  almost 
succeeded  in  his  design  of  destroying  the  powerful  earl. 
Yet,  after  a  time,  Leicester's  influence  revived.  He 
was  restored  to  his  ascendency  and  the  French  match 
was  broken  off.  But  Leicester  could  not  pardon  Simier. 
He  resolved  to  have  a  deadly  revenge.  He  hired  some 
pirates  to  attack  the  ship  which  bore  Simier  and 
Kaleigh  to  the  continent,  and  to  sink  her  with  all  her 
crew.  The  pirates  chased  the  vessel  for  four  hours,  but 
were  finally  driven  off  by  some  men-of-war. 

When  the  Duke  of  Anjou  having  visited  England 
was  about  to  return  to  France,  Raleigh  was  one  of 
those  sufficiently  conspicuous  to  be  appointed  to  escort 
him  home.  The  duke  moved  with  a  brilliant  retinue. 
The  queen  herself,  with  the  flower  of  her  court,  attended 
him  to  Dover.  A  splendid  train  of  English  nobles  and 
gentlemen,  among  whom  was  Kaleigh,  accompanied 
him  to  Antwerp.  Here  Raleigh  made  the  acquaint- 
ance of  the  Prince  of  Orange,  who  charged  him  witk 
letters  to  the  queen,  and  with  a  verbal  message  that 
"  the  States  flourished  only  beneath  her  powerful  care." 
When  Raleigh  came  back  to  England  he  became  a-a 
especial  favorite  and  one  apparently  marked  out  fo»r 
rapid  advancement.  Leicester  was  not  yet  his  enemy 
and  even  showed  him  some  favor.  With  Sidney  and 
Bacon  he  could  hardly  fail  to  form  an  intimacy,  so  like 
were  they  in  their  love  for  learning.  He  had  an  opeaa. 


RALEIGH  LOOKS   WITH  HOPE  TO  AMEKICA.  53 

rupture  with  Lord  Grey,  but  against  that  powerful 
nobleman  he  found  himself  sustained  by  the  favor  of 
the  queen. 

His  imagination  still  rested  upon  America.  Amid 
the  slow  progress  of  court  promotion  he  turned  to  that 
New  World  as  the  true  field  for  his  ambition.  Sir 
Humphrey  Gilbert  had  renewed  his  project  of  settling 
Newfoundland.  He  was  to  go  in  person  upon  the 
dangerous  expedition.  Raleigh  built  a  bark  of  two 
hundred  tons,  called  the  Raleigh,  to  accompany  his 
brother.  To  do  this  he  must  have  possessed  money  or 
credit.  Sir  Humphrey  added  four  more  vessels.  The 
expedition  was  patronized  by  the  queen.  Her  pene- 
trating mind  perceived  all  the  advantages  that  flowed 
from  maritime  adventure,  and  she  honored  and  che- 
rished all  those  worthy  voyagers  whose  exploits  laid  the 
foundation  of  English  supremacy  on  the  sea.  She 
directed  Raleigh  to  write  to  his  brother  that  she  wished 
him  "good  hap."  She  sent  him  a  golden  anchor 
guided  by  a  lady,  and  desired,  as  if  foreseeing  the  doom 
of  the  brave  navigator,  that  he  would  leave  behind  him 
his  picture.  The  fleet  sailed,  June  11,  1583.  But  by 
midnight  of  the  13th,  a  violent  contagious  disease  broke 
out  on  the  bark  Raleigh.  She  put  into  Plymouth  in 
great  distress.  Meanwhile  the  remaining  ships  pro- 
ceeded to  Newfoundland.  They  landed  and  took  pos- 
session of  the  island  with  great  solemnity.  But  of  the 
four  only  one  vessel  returned.  Sir  Humphrey,  having 
lost  his  own  ship,  attempted  to  cross  the  ocean  in  a 


54:      HE  RESOLVES  TO  EXPLORE  THE  UNKNOWN  SHORES. 

pinnace  of  only  ten  tons.  A  storm  arose,  and  his 
companions  beheld  him  disappear,  on  a  dismal  night,  in 
the  stormy  Atlantic. 

His  fate  had  no  effect  upon  Raleigh.  His  passion  for 
discovery  grew  strong  amid  constant  disappointments. 
The  new  world  lay  before  him,  almost  an  untrodden 
soil.  The  Spaniards  had  penetrated  into  but  a  small  por- 
tion around  the  Isthmus  of  Darien.  All  the  vast  interior 
of  North  America,  the  outlines  of  which  had  been 
faintly  indicated  by  the  discoveries  of  Davis,  of  Cabot, 
of  Gilbert,  was  still  to  be  conquered  and  explored.  Its 
long  shores  lay  opposite  to  England,  inviting  her  adven- 
turous people  to  discovery  and  settlement. 

Raleigh  resolved  to  explore  this  unknown  tract.  He 
designed  to  form  a  settlement  about  midway  between 
Florida  and  Newfoundland.  Here  he  thought  golden 
mines  must  abound,  and  the  wealth  of  the  Indians  aw^ait 
the  first  discoverer.  Here  England  might  strengthen 
herself  against  the  overwhelming  power  of  Spain,  by 
discoveries  of  equal  value  with  those  which  had  ele- 
vated the  impoverished  kings  of  Castile  to  such  afflu- 
ence and  grandeur.  He  imparted  his  designs  to  Eliza- 
beth. He  clothed  it  in  all  the  engaging  colors  which 
glowed  in  his  own  sanguine  imagination.  H  e  presented 
it  with  all  the  skill  of  "his  plausible  tongue."  The 
queen  heard  him  with  pleasure.  She  encouraged  the 
expedition,  and  granted  him  a  patent  with  power  to 
hold,  settle,  and  govern  all  the  new  territories  he  might 
discover. 


55 


As  the  groat  colonizer,  Raleigh  lias  won  his  most  last- 
ing fame.  He  was  the  first  to  lead  his  countrymen 
onward  to  these  great  discoveries,  which  have  given 
them  all  their  commercial  supremacy.  He  was  resolved 
that  his  own  country  should  no  longer  be  surpassed  by 
Southern  Europe,  in  the  advantages  of  colonization. 
As  yet  England  had  lagged  behind  her  contemporaries, 
and  neglected  those  means  of  profit,  which  had  made 
other  nations  prosperous.  While  Spain  and  Portugal 
had  won  great  empires  and  vast  revenues  by  their  dis- 
tant conquests,  increasing  trade,  and  untiring  enterprise, 
the  English,  divided,  by  civil  and  religious  contest,  had 
remained  but  slightly  benefited  by  the  new  discoveries. 

Under  the  energy  of  Kaleigh.a  new  spirit  was  im- 
parted to  Englishmen.  He  taught  them  the  true  destiny 
of  England.  He  founded  her  empire  upon  the  sea. 
His  name  and  his  influence  aided  every  attempt  at  mari- 
time discovery.  His  enthusiasm  for  naval  affairs  was 
limitless.  It  never  flagged  for  a  moment.  He  encour- 
aged Davis  on  his  perilous  voyage  to  discover  a  northern 
passage.  He  aided  Hakluyt  to  publish  his  celebrated 
collection  of  voyages.  He  sent  ship  after  ship  to  the 
shores  of  the  New  World,  to  colonize,  to  relieve  tke 
colonists,  to  explore  the  unknown  land,  and  to  bring 
back  an  exact  account  of  its  productions,  climate,  and 
inhabitants.  While  a  prisoner  in  the  Tower,  he  wrote 
a  treatise  on  ship-building ;  and  closed  his  long  career 
by  a  last  voyage  of  discovery,  that  was  fatal  to  his  for- 
tunes and  his  life. 


56  THE   NAKKATIVE   OF   HIS   CAPTAINS. 

Two  vessels  were  prepared  for  Ms  first  expedition  to 
the  New  World.  They  were  equipped  chiefly,  if  not 
altogether,  at  his  own  expense.  Philip  Amidas  and 
Arthur  Barlow  were  the  captains. 

These  ships  were  sent  out  to  explore  the  New  World 
and  to  prepare  the  way  for  a  perfect  system  of  coloniza- 
tion. They  were  followed  by  the  attention  of  all  Eng- 
land. Raleigh's  plan  of  distant  settlement  became  the 
subject  of  conversation  in  the  court  and  the  city,  among 
the  nobles,  the  merchants,  and  the  people.  It  was  looked 
upon  with  general  favor.  Men's  minds  were  filled  with 
admiration  at  the  greatness  of  his  views  and  the  patriotic 
ardor  with  which  he  illustrated  them. 

At  length  the  ships  returned.     They  had  pursued  the 
long  route   by  the  Canaries,  and  had  passed  several 
months  upon  the  sea ;  but  they  had  returned  safe.     They 
had  seen  the  unknown  land  and  had  found  it  as  beauti 
ful  as  Eden. 

Raleigh  exultingly  published  the  narrative  of  his  cap 
tains.  They  related  how,  as  they  approached  the  shore 
of  the  New  World,  the  perfume  as  of  a  garden  of  flowers 
had  stolen  over  the  ocean  to  welcome  them.  How, 
after  coasting  for  many  miles,  they  had  landed  and  taken 
possession  of  the  country  in  the  name  of  their  queen. 

It  was  July.  They  had  alighted  upon  the  shores  of 
North  Carolina.  The  summer  airs  seemed  to  the  voya- 
gers to  possess  a  peculiar  softness  such  as  they  had  never 
felt  before.  Nature  saluted  them  coming  from  the  mo- 
notonous sea  with  an  unending  variety  of  charms.  All 


NATUKE   OF   THE   COUNTRY.  57 

seemed  peace  and  rest,  and  luxuriant  life.  "Vines  grew 
so  plentifully  that  they  climbed  to  the  tops  of  the  tall 
cedars,  and  came  down  along  the  shore  until  they  mingled 
with  the  waves.  A  gunshot  awoke  such  vast  flocks  of 
birds  that  their  united  cry  seemed  like  the  shouting  of  an 
army. 

A  single  native  approached  the  English  with  but  little 
show  of  fear.  When  they  loaded  him  with  gifts  he  was 
transported  with  gratitude.  He  leaped  into  his  boat 
and  commenced  fishing.  In  half  an  hour,  so  plentiful 
was  the  yield,  it  was  loaded  with  as  many  fish  as  it  could 
bear.  The  native  then  landed  on  a  point  of  land  near 
the  ships,  divided  his  spoil  into  two  parte,  indicated  that 
one  part  was  for  each  vessel,  and  then  disappeared. 

The  voyagers  pursued  their  explorations.  They  were 
hospitably  treated  by  one  of  the  kings  of  the  country, 
as  they  called  the  native  chiefs.  With  royal  liberality 
he  sent  them  every  day  a  brace  or  two  of  fat  ducks, 
conies,  hares,  and  fish,  the  best  in  the  world.  With  these 
came  various  kinds  of  fruits,  vegetables,  melons,  cucum- 
bers, gourds,  walnuts,  peas,  roots,  and  other  unknown 
products  of  the  country.  It  seemed  indeed  a  land  of 
plenty.  The  soil  with  but  slight  cultivation  produced 
profusely.  The  forests  and  rivers  teemed  with  the 
choicest  food.  No  want  could  come  to  this  favored 
clime.  'No  sickness  visited  the  transient  explorers. 

Yet  the  natives  so  mild  to  the  English  were  found  to 
be  faithless,  implacable,  and  savagely  cruel  to  each 
other.  They  showed  where  whole  races  had  been  ex- 


58  NARRATIVE  OF  THE  VOYAGE. 

terminated  in  their  wars.  They  told  with  barbarous 
triumph  how  they  had  invited  their  enemies  to  a  feast 
and  then,  after  praying  to  their  idol,  had  fallen  iipon 
their  guests  and  murdered  them.  They  even  invited 
the  English  to  witness  and  take  part  in  a  similar  exploit. 
They  were  idolators  bearing  about  with  them  in  war  an 
idol  of  which  they  asked  counsel.  "When  their  armies 
advanced  to  battle,  instead  of  the  noise  of  drums  and 
trumpets,  they  sang  fierce  songs  like  the  ancient 
Germans. 

With  such  pictures  of  the  new  world  did  Raleigh  fill 
the  minds  of  his  countrymen.  Here  was  another  Para- 
dise discovered,  possessed  by  demons  who  were  to  be 
driven  out,  or  heathens  to  be  converted  to  Christianity. 
Here  was  a  land  abounding  in  the  spices  and  fruits  of  the 
Indies,  and  which  must  certainly  contain  great  stores  of 
gold.  If  the  sea-shore  was  so  inviting,  what  might  not 
be  expected  in  the  interior  ?  When  Cortes  first  landed 
upon  the  shores  of  Mexico  he  encountered  only  savage 
tribes.  Perhaps  another  Montezuma  was  reigning  in 
peaceful  impotence  within  the  vine-clad  shores  of 
Ocracoke. 

The  narrative  of  his  first  expedition  was  laid  by 
Raleigh  before  the  queen.  She  was  delighted  with  its 
success.  Here  was  no  chilly  Newfoundland  to  be  settled, 
uninviting  and  covered  with  fogs,  but  a  soft  climate 
and  fertile  soil  waiting  to  be  possessed.  She  bestowed 
a  name  upon  the  land  which  should  perpetuate  her  own 
glory.  She  called  Raleigh's  new  province  Virginia. 


THE   DISCOVERER   KNIGHTED.  59 

The  discoverer  was  knighted.  He  became  Sir  "Walter 
Raleigh.  He  entered  Parliament.  To  aid  him  in  his 
plan  of  colonization,  the  queen  gave  him  a  monopoly 
of  the  sale  of  sweet  wines,  and  his  patent  for  settling 
and  governing  America  was  confirmed  by  Parliament. 

In  1583,  a  new  undertaking  diverted  for  a  moment 
his  attention.  Sir  Adrian  Gilbert,  his  step-brother,  had 
prepared  an  expedition  for  the  discovery  of  a  northwest 
passage.  It  was  to  be  commanded  by  the  famous  Cap- 
tain Davis.  Thus  was  Raleigh  one  of  the  originators  of 
those  marvellous  voyages  to  the  icy  seas  of  the  north 
which,  if  they  have  had  no  other  useful  effect,  have 
given  to  the  British  seamen  a  daring  valor  and  unrivalled 
hardihood  that  have  taught  them  to  despise  the  danger 
of  all  other  maritime  exploits.  The  Polar  seas  have 
been  the  school  of  American  and  British  seamanship. 
There  the  whaler  and  the  sealer  soon  followed  in  the 
track  of  the  explorer.  Davis  sailed  from  England  with 
but  two  barks,  in  the  summer  of  1585.  He  touched 
land  as  far  north  as  latitude  66°  40',  the  cliffs  of  which 
glistened  like  gold,  and  called  it  Mount  Raleigh.  He 
also  discovered  the  straits  which  lead  into  Baffin's  Bay, 
and  which  retain  his  name.  Among  the  icebergs  of  the 
north  the  enterprise  of  Raleigh  was  felt.  Without  his 
cordial  support  the  English  mariner  might  long  have 
shrunk  from  those  boisterous  seas,  and  have  overlooked 
some  of  the  richest  grounds  of  the  whale-fisher. 

But  though  thus  ready  to  encourage  every  scheme 
that  promised  benefit  to  the  nation,  Raleigh  still  cher- 


60  A   SECOND   EXPEDITION. 

ished  with  peculiar  interest  Ms  plan  of  colonizing 
Yirginia.  In  1585  he  prepared  a  second  expedition. 
Seven  vessels,  having  on  board  one  hundred  colonists, 
were  made  ready  and  the  command  given  to  Sir  Kichard 
Greenville,  one  of  those  famous  mariners  who  in  that 
day  scoured  the  seas  in  pursuit  of  Spanish  carracks,  and 
delighted  in  any'  dangerous  enterprise  that  promised 
profit  or  renown.  He  was  Raleigh's  most  faithful  adhe- 
rent, and  to  none  other  could  he  have  so  safely  commit- 
ted the  care  of  his  young  colony. 

It  may  be  wondered  that  Raleigh  did  not  himself 
hasten  to  take  possession  of  his  province.  But  perhaps 
he  feared  to  leave  the  queen,  with  whom  he  was  now 
an  almost  unrivalled  favorite,  and  was  fearful  that  his 
enemies,  of  whom  he  always  had  many,  would  take 
advantage  of  his  absence  to  destroy  his  influence.  He 
felt  that  at  court  he  stood  upon  a  treacherous  soil.  His 
sole  reliance  was  the  favor  of  a  haughty  and  sensitive 
mistress.  A  whisper  might  destroy  him,  an  intrigue 
reduce  him  below  those  rivals  with  whom  he  now  con- 
tended upon  an  equality.  To  be  safe  he  must  retain  his 
influence  over  Elizabeth  by  an  assiduous  attendance  and 
submission  to  her  whims,  her  vanity,  and  her  tenderness. 

Greenville,  therefore,  led  the  important  expedition. 
Ralph  Lane  went  with  him  as  governor  of  the  colony. 
With  the  settlers  were  several  remarkable  men.  Har- 
riot, the  inventor  of  Algebraic  notation,  Cavendish, 
the  circumnavigator,  and  a  painter,  who  made  sketches 
of  the  natives,  their  dress,  dwellings,  and  other  curi- 


VIRGINIA .  61 

osities  of  the  country,  which  aided  much  in  convey- 
ing to  the  people  of  England  a  just  conception  of  the 
New  World. 

The  voyagers  sailed  upon  the  usual  southern  course, 
from  which  the  most  experienced  navigators  of  the  age 
were  afraid  to  venture,  and  passing  by  the  Canaries, 
paused  for  a  time  at  Hispaniola,  where,  notwithstanding 
their  buccaneering  propensities,  they  behaved  with 
hospitality  to  the  Spanish  inhabitants,  entertaining  the 
governor  and  other  men  of  note  at  a  "sumptuous"  ban- 
quet, given  beneath  a  temporary  banquet-hall  erected 
with  green  boughs.  The  Spaniards  returned  their  civil- 
ity by  giving  in  their  honor  a  grand  hunt  of  whitebulls. 

Then  Greenville  bore  off  for  Virginia,  where  he 
landed  his  colony.  The  settlers  were  charmed  with  the 
appearance  of  the  country,  and  saw  the  fleet  depart 
without  regret.  His  duty  accomplished,  Greenville 
indulged  his  natural  tastes.  He  fell  upon  Spanish  com- 
merce and  made  rich  prizes  on  his  homeward  passage. 

The  colonists  left  behind  in  the  Paradise,  commenced 
exploring  its  advantages.  They  found  the  soil  the 
goodliest  under  the  cope  of  heaven,  abounding  in  sweet 
trees  that  teemed  with  spicy  gums.  A  continent  of 
unknown  greatness  and  resources  stretched  behind 
them.  They  prepare^,  to  discover  its  mines  of  gold,  its 
jewels,  its  cities  and  its  monarchs.  Evidently  it  was 
well  peopled,  and  the  natives  courteous.  They  met  the 
strangers  without  suspicion.  They  were  so  ignorant  as 
to  prefer  coarse  cloth  to  silk,  red  copper  to  all  other 


62  ITS   DANGERS. 

metals.  Such  were  the  tidings  the  fleet  bore  back  to 
Raleigh. 

But  the  colonists  soon  began  to  discover  that  their 
beautiful  wilderness  possessed  dangers  and  sufferings 
more  pressing  than  those  from  which  they  had  fled.  The 
savages  had  been  wantonly  made  their  bitter  foes. 
Before  Greenville  left  he  had  taught  the  simple  natives 
that  the  white  men,  whom  they  thought  gods,  were 
cruel  and  revengeful.  A  silver  cup  had  been  stolen 
in  one  of  the  native  towns.  Greenville,  with  the  prompt 
cruelty  of  a  buccaneer,  had  reduced  the  village  to 
ashes,  and  destroyed  its  fields  of  growing  corn.  This 
act  spread  horror  among  the  "  courteous "  savages. 
The  reverence  they  had  felt  for  the  white  men  changed 
into  a  loathing  dread.  They  believed  them  to  be  evil 
spirits  come  to  destroy  their  race.  A  prophecy  spread 
among  them  that  more  whites  were  coming  to  hasten 
their  doom ;  that  they  were  to  be  wholly  exterminated, 
and  their  places  taken  by  a  new  generation  of  stran- 
gers. So  early  did  the  sense  of  their  mournful  destiny 
liumble  the  minds  of  the  unreflecting  savages. 

With  the  hostility  of  the  natives,  famine  came  upon 
the  colony.  ~No  kings  any  longer  sent  them  braces  of 
fat  bucks,  and  abundance  of  fine  fruit.  The  Indians 
neglected  to  plant  their  corn  lest  it  should  serve  to 
nourish  their  invaders.  The  whites  had  not  time  to 
raise  any  for  themselves.  In  the  land  which  had  been 
thought  the  garden  of  the  world,  the  first  settlers  were 
nearly  starved. 


THE  COLONISTS  RETURN  WITH  SIR  FRANCIS  DRAKE.        63 

At  this  moment  Sir  Francis  Drake  came  sailing  tri- 
umphantly from  the  plunder  of  ^Carthagena,  and  the 
Spanish  coasts,  to  visit  Kaleigh's  famous  colony.  He 
found  the  settlers  desponding  and  hopeless;  Virginia 
had  lost  all  its  allurements.  They  begged  Drake  to  take 
them  back  to  England  where,  in  a  less  favored  climate, 
there  were  no  savages,  and  food  for  all.  They  returned, 
bringing  back  a  vast  deal  of  information  in  relation  to 
the  country  and  its  productions. 

Meanwhile  Raleigh,  ever  provident,  had  sent  a  ship 
of  an  hundred  tons  to  their  relief,  loaded  with  a  plenti- 
ful supply  of  all  that  they  could  require.  She  was 
detained  in  England  until  late  in  the  season,  and  arrived 
at  the  colony  a  few  days  after  the  settlers  had  sailed. 
Not  long  after  the  departure  of  this  vessel,  Raleigh 
dispatched  Sir  Richard  Greenville,  with  three  ships,  also 
laden  with  supplies.  He  landed  upon  the  deserted 
coast,  explored  the  country  in  person  to  some  extent, 
and  having  left  fifteen  men  upon  the  island  of  Roanoke, 
to  prove  that  the  project  of  settling  in  Virginia  was  not 
abandoned,  he  sailed  back  to  England. 

Thus  failed  Raleigh's  second  effort  to  colonize  Amer- 
ica. The  expense  of  this  attempt '  to  him  must  have 
been  almost  ruinous.  His  only  resource  was  the  bounty 
of  the  queen;  and  Elizabeth,  it  is  well  known,  gave  but 
sparingly.  His  passion  for  discovery  had  thus  far  been 
indulged  at  great  pecuniary  loss.  It  had  kept  him  poor, 
and  ill  satisfied.  Yet  he  had  not  altogether  failed.  His 
expeditions  had  familiarized  to  the  minds  of  his  country- 


64:  TOBACCO. 

men,  the  idea  of  colonization.  They  had  brought  over 
an  accurate  knowledge  of  the  dangers,  as  well  as  advan- 
tages, of  the  country.  To  his  experienced  eye  there 
appeared  no  difficulties  that  could  prevent  his  scheme 
from  having  perfect  success.  Climate,  soil,  and  the 
feeble  character  of  the  natives,  seemed  to  invite  to  further 
enterprise. 

One  of  the  results  of  this  expedition,  was  the  intro- 
duction of  tobacco  into  England.  The  savages  of 
America  had  first  discovered  the  uses  of  that  plant, 
which  has  now  become  one  of  the  chief  luxuries  of  civil- 
ization. In  his  wigwams,  amid  swamps  and  wild  woods, 
the  Indian  had  learned  to  envelop  himself  in  clouds 
of  fragrant  smoke.  His  pipe  and  his  tobacco  pouch 
were  his  choicest  possessions.  They  accompanied  him 
on  his  warlike  expeditions,  and  solaced  the  monotony 
of  his  winter  lodge.  His  strange  and  savage  recreation 
became  known  to  the  whites.  They  adopted  the  fashion 
with  avidity.  Before  the  voyage  of  Greenville  the 
Spaniards  had  introduced  smoking  into  Southern  Europe, 
but  it  had  not  yet  reached  England. 

Raleigh  made  smoking  the  fashion.  He  brought  into 
the  stately  court  of  Elizabeth,  an  amusement  which 
seemed  only  suited  to  the  lodge  of  a  savage  Yirginian. 
Tobacco  became  his  favorite  solace.  He  lived  in  a 
cloud  of  perpetual  smoke,  and  died  almost  with  his 'pipe 
in  his  mouth.  His  arrangements  for  smoking  were  on 
a  costly  scale.  His  tobacco  box,  or  rather  its  case,  was 
of  gilded  leather,  about  a  foot  and  a  half  broad,  and 


-  ESTATE.  65 


thirteen  inches  high.  "Within  were  receptacles  for  six- 
teen pipes.  Around  the  case  stood  a  circle  of  small 
wax  candles  of  various  colors,  as  around  the  altar  of  a 
god.  It  is  not  related  that  they  were  kept  perpetually 
burning. 

The  practice  soon  became  fashionable  at  court.  "What 
amused  the  chief  favorite  could  not  fail  to  entertain 
others.  The  demand  for  tobacco  grew  great.  One 
chief  employment  of  the  future  colonists  of  Virginia, 
was  to  be  the  cultivation  of  this  plant.  Its  use  soon 
became  common  all  over  Europe,  a  cloud  of  tobacco 
smoke  floated  over  almost  every  palace,  and  every  cot- 
tage. Philosophers  like  John  Locke,  and  poets  like 
John  Milton,  were  not  ashamed  to  adopt  the  savage 
custom,  and  proved  by  their  common  taste  how  small 
the  difference  between  the  barbarous  and  the  civilized 
man. 

To  compensate  him  for  his  losses,  Elizabeth  gave 
Raleigh  an  estate  of  twelve  thousand*  acres  in  Ireland, 
on  condition  that  he  should  plant  and  settle  it  at  his 
own  expense.  The  gift  could  hardly  have  been  of  much 
value  at  that  time.  Ireland  had  lately  been  desolated 
by  a  rebellion  in  Minister,  and  when  that  was  suppressed 
a  famine  fell  upon  the  unhappy  country,  owing  to  the 
neglect  of  proper  agriculture,  which  proved  more  fatal 
than  many  wars.  Whole  districts  were  depopulated. 
Elizabeth  saw  that  she  could  never  rely  upon  the  fidelity 
of  the  native  Irish.  She  offered  inducements  to  English 
settlers  to  enter  and  cultivate  the  island.  The  deserted 


66  THE  EARL   OF  LEICESTEE. 

lands  were  given  to  any  who  could  colonize  them.  But 
they  were  chiefly  bestowed  upon  those  who  had  aided 
in  suppressing  the  rebellion.  Of  these  Ealeigh  had 
been  one  of  the  chief.  His  share  therefore  was  large. 
This  estate  he  afterwards  sold  to  Robert  Boyle,  Earl  of 
Corke,  to  whom  it  proved  the  commencement  of  a  great 
fortune.  Two  other  preferments  at  this  time  mark  the 
gradual  ascent  of  Raleigh's  fortunes ;  he  was  made 
Seneschal  of  the  Duchy  of  Cornwall  and  Exeter,  and 
Lord  Warden  of  the  Stannaries  of  Wales  and  Corn- 
wall. 

The  Earl  of  Leicester  had  been  for  more  than  thirty 
years  the  reigning  favorite.  On  him  Elizabeth  had 
lavished  her  highest  honors  and  her  most  liberal  gifts. 
His  marriage  had  but  for  a  moment  shaken  his  supre- 
macy. But  his  influence  now  received  a  deeper  blow. 
He  had  been  sent  to  Holland  at  the  head  of  the  forces 
which  Elizabeth  had  prepared  for  the  relief  of  the  Dutch. 
He  had  entered  the  provinces  attended  by  a  retinue  of 
eminent  men,  among  whom  was  the  Earl  of  Essex,  and 
had  been  received  with  joy  and  gratitude  by  the  States. 
But  ere  long  Leicester  proved  himself  a  coward,  an 
inefficient  general,  and  a  man  whose  vanity  and  ambition 
rendered  him  unfit  to  hold  any  important  command. 
Elizabeth  recalled  her  favorite  in  disgrace.  "With 
Leicester,  Raleigh  seems  to  have  long  corresponded. 
They  had  continued  ever  friends.  There  is  a  letter  from 
Raleigh  to  Leicester,  written  probably  at  this  time,  in 
which  he  assures  the  earl  of  his  devotion  to  his  interests. 


begs  him  not  to  permit  any  poetical  scribe  to  make  him 
seem  cold  and  hollow,  and  adds  "  the  queen  is  on  very 
good  terms  with  yon,  and  thanks  be  to  God  you  are  still 
her  sweet  Robin." 

"With  the  people  Raleigh  was  never  popular.  He  was 
even  generally  disliked.  All  his  great  achievements, 
his  gallant  manners,  and  his  commanding  mind  failed  to 
win  him  the  affections  of  the  citizens,  or  even  to  make 
him  many  friends.  It  was  well  known  that  he  was 
haughty,  overbearing  and  self-willed.  It  was  believed 
that  he  was  selfish  and  insincere.  His  political  princi- 
ples were  more  liberal  than  most  of  his  contemporaries  ; 
his  hatred  to  Spain  was  a  popular  feeling ;  his  plans  of 
colonization  were  on  all  hands  allowed  to  be  highly 
patriotic ;  yet  was  he  singularly  unpopular.  Essex  had 
only  to  show  his  fair  melancholy  face  to  the  mob 
to  awaken  a  hearty  welcome  of  cheers  and  shouts. 
But  when  Raleigh  walked  abroad  he  was  passed  in 
silence. 

This  unpopularity  is  not  strange.  Men  who  gain 
influence  by  mere  mental  power  are  seldom  liked. 
They  govern  the  mind  but  not  the  affections.  They  rule 
over  unwilling  subjects.  Of  this  kind  was  Raleigh's 
influence  over  Elizabeth.  She  admired  his  rare  union  of 
striking  qualities,  his  refined  taste,  his  strong  intellect, 
his  unusual  personal  attractions,  and  his-  martial  skill,  but 
she  missed  that  impulsive  nature,  that  passionate  tem- 
perament which  fixed  her  affections  upon  the  youthful 
Essex.  The  people,  too,  soon  discerned  the  nature  of 


68  TASTE   FOE   BUCCANEERING. 

the  favorite's  influence  and  character.  They  disliked 
his  haughty,  commanding  spirit.  They  feared  his 
singular  tact. 

An  anecdote  is  preserved  that  seems  to  indicate  the 
common  feeling  with  regard  to  Haleigh.  Tarleton  was 
the  best  comedian  of  the  time.  He  was  the  privileged 
court  jester.  Once,  while  acting  a  play  before  Eliza- 
beth and  her  courtiers,  he  suddenly  pointed  to  Raleigh 
as  he  repeated  the  words  "  see  the  knave  commands  the 
queen."  Elizabeth  frowned.  But  going  on  with  the 
same  freedom  the  jester  added,  "  he  is"  of  too  much  and 
too  intolerable  power."  lie  even  made  some  reflections 
upon  the  great  influence  of  the  Earl  Leicester  which 
were  received  with  such  general  applause  by  all  present 
that  the  queen  thought  it  prudent  to  conceal  her  dis- 
pleasure. But  from  that  time  Tarleton  was  forbidden 
to  appear  at  her  table. 

Elizabeth  was  the  queen  of  a  nation  of  buccaneers. 
Her  subjects  were  almost  universally  engaged  in 
privateering.  English  seamen  were  just  beginning  to 
display  their  native  hardihood  and  cupidity.  Their 
frail,  ill-constructed  barks,  so  small  that  in  the  present 
age  they  would  scarce  seem  fit  for  river  navigation, 
pierced  the  most  distant  and  dangerous  seas  in  pursuit 
of  their  prey.  They  had  just  learned  the  weakness 
and  wealth  of  Spanish  commerce.  They  found  that  an 
English  pinnace  of  twenty  tons  was  more  than  a  match 
for  a  Lisbon  galleon  of  twelve  hundred  tons.  They 
taught  the  Spanish  sailors  to  dread  the  coming  of  their 


DANGERS    OF   THE   EAKLY   NAVIGATORS.  C9 

heretic  foes  as  they  would  a  legion  of  demons.  The 
English  indeed  fought  more  like  demons  than  men. 
They  met,  without  flinching,  force  an  hundred  times 
more  powerful  than  their  own.  A  fleet  of  Spanish 
carracks  of  immense  size  lay  around  Greenville's  single 
ship,  the  Revenge,  a  whole  day.  They  could  neither 
board  nor  sink  her,  and  would  have  fled  dismayed 
shattered  and  filled  with  slaughter  from  her  terrible 
crew,  had  not  her  last  barrel  of  powder  given  out. 
Almost  every  English  captain  was  a  Greenville  and 
every  ship  a  Revenge.  They  rode  the  seas  with  a 
triumphant  assurance  that  they  were  its  masters.  Even 
the  dangers  of  the  waves  were  despised.  Their  ill-built 
barks  were  seldom  tight.  They  leaked  badly  in  the 
very  harbour.  They  were  so  small  that  the  slightest 
swell  of  the  sea  seemed  sufficient  to  overwhelm  them. 
The  provisions  were  usually  bad  and  insufficient. 
None  of  those  inventions  which  relieve  the  hardships 
of  modern  sailors  were  known  to  the  Elizabethan  navi- 
gators. The  science  of  navigation  was  yet  to  be 
learned.  The  compass  and  the  lead  were  their  only 
guides.  Yet  with  such  science  and  such  vessels  they 
encountered  the  violent  storms  of  the  Bay  of  Biscay, 
the  dangers  of  the  Atlantic,  and  the  icebergs  of  the 
Polar  seas.  In  consequence  many  brave  men  perished, 
many  like  Sir  Humphrey  Gilbert  sank  with  ship  and 
crew  in  stormy  nights  and  raging  seas. 

But  the  fate  of  the  lost  did  not  check  the  zeal  of  the 
living.     Rich  prizes  were  daily  arriving  in  English  liar- 


TO        THE  OCEAN  THE  PATHWAY  TO  FAME., 

bors,  to  stimulate  avarice  and  adventure.  The  favorite 
speculation  with  all  classes  was  to  embark  their  capital 
in  privateering.  Elizabeth  set  the  example  to  her  people. 
Seldom  an  expedition  wrent  forth  in  which  she  had*  not  a 
tenth  or  a  fifth  interest,  and  few  prizes  returned  out  of 
which  she  did  not  exact  something  more  than  her  share. 

Indeed,  it  was  generally  allowed  that  in  these  matters 
she  often  acted  "  but  indifferently."  She  seemed  neither 
honest  nor  just  when  the  plunder  of  a  great  galleon  of 
Andalusia  came  to  be  divided,  and  the  gold,  the  jewels, 
the  spices,  and  the  gums  were  allotted  to  the  happy 
adventurers. 

The  great  nobles  and  wealthy  merchants  were  as  eager 
for  Spanish  plunder  as  the  queen.  Few  of  the  courtiers 
of  a  military  renown  but  had  sailed  at  the  head  of  a 
squadron  or  a  fleet  in  pursuit  of  the  great  galleons  that 
annually  brought  from  America  to  Spain  the  wealth  of 
Mexico  and  Peru.  The  ocean  glowed  with  gold  and 
silver,  with  pearls  and  diamonds  for  these  noble  adven- 
turers. In  it  they  found  inexhaustible  mines  of  wealth, 
and  dangers  and  triumphs  sufficient  to  try  their  courage 
and  satisfy  their  ambition. 

The  ocean  in  those  days  was  the  pathway  to  fame. 
Land  service  offered  but  little  allurement  to  the  soldier. 
Elizabeth  engaged  in  no  great  military  expeditions. 
Her  wars  in  Holland  or  in  Ireland  were  barren  of  laurels 
or  of  plunder.  She  directed  all  the  energies  of  her 
people  to  naval  expeditions.  Her  chief  attention  was 
given  to  her  navv.  She  perceived  the  true  genius  of 


71 


her  subjects  for  naval  excellence.  She  resolved  to  mtike 
England  the  ruler  of  the  seas.  Her  nobles  shared  her 
zeal.  The  Veres,  the  Howards,  the  Earl  of  Cumberland, 
Essex,  Carew,  and  Kaleigh  led  her  fleets  with  a  success 
that  first  inspired  in  the  minds  of  Englishmen  the  con- 
sciousness of  their  true  destiny.  Drake,  Frobisher  and 
Davis,  of  less  elevated  birth,  of  equal  valor  and  of  higher 
skill,  completed  the  design  of  Elizabeth.  She  reigned 
over  the  ocean  with  a  terrible  supremacy.  She  strewed 
its  waves  with  the  wrecks  of  Spanish  commerce  and 
stained  its  distant  bays  with  Spanish  blood. 

First  among  the  buccaneer  nobles  stood  Raleigh.  He 
had  a  vessel  in  almost  every  expedition  that  sailed. 
When  the  Earl  of  Cumberland  went  with  a  squadron 
to  the  South  seas,  Ealeigh's  fine  pinnace,  the  Dorothy, 
accompanied  him.  In  1586  he  sent  out  two  pinnaces, 
the  Serpent  and  the  Mary  Sparke,  at  his  own  expense, 
to  cruise  near  the  Azores.  These  puny  cruisers  seem  to 
have  been  hardly  capable  of  crossing  the  English  Chan- 
nel. The  Serpent  was  of  but  thirty-free  tons  burden, 
the  Mary  Sparke  of  fifty.  Yet  they  stood  bravely  out 
across  the  boisterous  Biscay,  along  the  hostile  coasts  of 
Portugal,  careless  of  the  dangers  of  the  sea,  and  glowing 
with  the  excitement  of  huntsmen  in  chase  of  a  certain 
prey.  They  drew  near  the  Azores,  where  the  English 
were  accustomed  to  lie  in  wait  for  the  heavy-sailing 
Spaniards,  who  knew  no  other  homeward  route  from  the 
Indies.  The  little  vessels  now  kept  a  keen  watch. 
Their  sport  soon  began.  They  took  first  a  small  bark 


72  TIIEY  ATTACK  A   SPANISH   FLEET. 

laden  with,  sumach,  on  board  of  which  was  the  Governor 
of  St.  Michaels.  Then  when  westward  of  the  island  of 
Tercera  they  descried  another  sail.  It  seemed  to  promise 
a  valuable  prize.  To  conceal  their  intentions  they 
hoisted  a  white  silk  flag.  The  Spaniards,  unsuspicious, 
came  sailing  towards  their  foes,  mistaking  them  for 
Spanish  armada  on  the  lookout  for  English  men-of-war. 
"  But  when  we  came  within  gunshot,"  says  Evesham, 
the  narrator  of  the  voyage,  "  we  took  down  our  white 
flag  and  spread  abroad  the  cross  of  St.  George,  which 
when  they  saw  it  made  them  fly  as  fast  as  they  might ; 
but  all  their  haste  was  in  vain,  for  our  ships  were  swifter 
of  sail  than  they,,  which  they  fearing  did  presently  cast 
all  their  ordnance  and  small  shot,  with  many  letters  and 
the  drafts  of  the  Straits  of  Magellan,  into  the  sea,  and 
thereupon  immediately  we  took  her ;  wherein  also  we 
took  a  gentleman  of  Spain,  named  Pedro  Sarmiento, 
Governor  of  the  Straits  of  Magellan,  which  said  Pedro 
we  brought  into  England'  with  us,  and  presented  him  to 
our  sovereign  lady,  the  queen."  They  took  three  more 
prizes,  and  then  attacked  a  fleet  of  twenty-four  sail,  two 
of  which  were  carraks  of  a  thousand  and  twelve  hundred 
tons.  Yet  the  Serpent  and  the  Mary  Sparke,  of  under 
iifty  tons  each,  were  not  intimidated.  They  rushed 
upon  the  enemy  with  undoubting  confidence.  It  was  a 
tempting  lure.  The  fleet  was  laden  with  treasure,  spices 
and  sugar.  The  adventurers  might  make  their  fortunes 
at  a  blow.  But  the  great  carracks  interposed  their  huge 
bulk  between  the  privateers  and  wealth.  "  We,"  con- 


KALEIGH   STILL   RISING.  73 

tinues  the  narrator,  "  with  two  small  pinnaces  did  fight 
and  kept  company  the  space  of  thirty-two  hours,  con- 
tinually fighting  with  them  and  they  with  us."  But  the 
powder  of  the  adventurers  gave  out  and  they  were  forced 
to  sail  towards  England.  They  came  to  Portsmouth  six 
hours  after  their  prizes,  where  they  were  received  with 
"  triumphant  joy,"  great  ordnance  being  shot  off  in  their 
honor,  and  the  hearts  of  all  the  people  of  the  city  and 
the  neighboring  country  being  filled  with  exultation. 
"  We  not  sparing  our  ordnance  (with  what  powder  we 
had  left)  to  requite  and  answer  them  again."  From 
thence  they  brought  the  prizes  to  Southampton,  where 
Sir  Walter,  the  owner,  divided  among  them  their  shares 
of  the  sugars,  the  elephant  teeth,  the  wax,  hides  and  rice 
with  which  they  had  been  laden. 

Raleigh  was  still  rising.  He  was  made  captain  of  the 
Queen's  Guards,  an  office  of  great  trust,  and  also  lieu- 
tenant-general of  the  county  of  Cornwall.  His  fortune 
was  improved  by  a  gift  of  the  forfeited  lands  of  Babing- 
ton,  the  conspirator. 

He  turned  once  more  to  America  to  make  his  final 
attempt  to  colonize  Virginia.  His  imagination  still 
lingered  with  delight  upon  its  fair  climate,  its  unknown 
wealth,  and  the  great  continent  which  stretched  within 
it  to  tempt  the  untiring  explorer.  His  plan  of  coloniza- 
tion he  resolved  to  make  perfect.  He  appointed  John 
White  governor  of  the  new  expedition,  with  twelve 
assistants,  and  sent  over  settlers  with  wives  and  children 
that  they  might  readily  form  new  homes  in  the  wilder- 

4- 


74:  THE  ISLAND  OF  EOAKOKE. 

ness.  They  carried  with,  them  agricultural  tools,  pro- 
visions, and  all  things  necessary  to  their  support.  In 
1587,  the  fleet  of  three  ships  sailed  for  America. 

Upon  the  island  of  Roanoke,  where  fifteen  men  had 
been  left  by  Greenville,  they  found  a  solitude.  Melan- 
choly traces  of  decay  were  around  them.  The  forts  and 
houses  built  by  the  former  settlers  were  indeed  standing ; 
but  they  were  deserted.  Yines  had  grown  over  the 
walls,  and  within  the  wild  deer  were  feeding  upon  their 
fruit.  The  natives  who  had  welcomed  the  first  voyagers 
so  courteously  were  timid  and  hostile.  Those  who  still 
remained  friendly  told  how  the  fifteen  had  been  shot  at 
from  behind  the  trees  by  their  enemies  with  innumerable 
arrows,  had  been  hunted  by  an  irresistible  force  to  the 
shelter  of  their  houses,  from  thence  to  their  boats,  and 
had  finally  fled  to  an  unknown  fate. 

Under  these  auspices  the  city  of  Raleigh  was  founded 
upon  the  deserted  island,  with  a  population  of  one 
hundred  and  fifty  disheartened  settlers.  It  was  the  only 
community  upon  the  long  coast  from  Florida  to  the 
Pole.  It  shone  with  a  flickering  beam  amid  the  sur- 
rounding night.  "When  the  ships  returned  to  England 
the  colonists  urged  Governor  White  to  return  with  them 
and  obtain  new  supplies,  for  they  were  already  in  want 
of  provisions.  They  dreaded  starvation  in  the  wilder- 
ness. White  at  first  refused.  His  honor  he  thought 
bound  him  not  to  abandon  his  charge.  At  length  he 
yielded  and  departed  for  England,  leaving  at  Ealeigh, 
as  a  pledge  of  his  fidelity,  his  daughter,  and  with  her 


FATE   OF  THE    CITY    OF   KALEIGII.  75 

liis  grandchild,  Virginia  Dare,  the  first  native-born 
white  child  of  Virginia. 

The  inhabitants  of  the  city  of  Raleigh  met  with  a 
mysterious  doom.  They  were  never  heard  of  from  the 
moment  that  White  left.  On  arriving  in  England  he 
found  the  whole  nation  preparing  to  struggle  for  self- 
preservation  against  Spain.  The  Armada  was  approach- 
ing. The  finest  troops  of  the  continent  were  about  to 
be  landed  upon  the  shores  of  England.  Every  ship  and 
every  man  was  required  in  self-defence.  Nevertheless, 
Raleigh  prepared  a  fleet  under  Greenville  to  sail  to  the 
relief  of  the  colony.  But  Elizabeth  sent  down  orders 
forbidding  their  departure.  At  such  a  moment  she 
could  not  spare  such  a  man  as  Greenville.  Then  Raleigh 
sent  out  two  pinnaces,  but  meeting  some  Rochelle  men 
of  war,  after  a  sharp  fight  tkey  were  obliged  to  return 
to  England  in  distress. 

It  was  not  until  1690  that  Governor  White  was  enabled 
to  return  to  the  colony.  He  found  the  fated  island  once 
more  a  solitude.  JSTo  trace  appeared  of  his  people,  his 
daughter,  or  his  grandchild.  It  was  too  late  in  the 
season  for  him  to  seek  them  among  the  unknown  depths 
of  the  wilderness.  The  natives  who  professed  friendship 
would  only  relate  that  they  had  wandered  off  to  a  distant 
and  unknown  coast.  Their  wanderings  were  never 
traced.  A  tradition  relates  that  they  mingled  with  the 
natives  and  adopted  the  savage  manners ;  and  the  traces 
of  a  higher  order  of  intellectual  and  physical  conforma- 
tion, which  were  supposed  to  characterize  the  descend- 
ants of  one  of  the  neighboring  tribes,  were  afterwards 


76  THE   ARMADA. 

attributed  to  its  union  with  the  lost  people  of  the  city 
of  Raleigh. 

Impoverished  by  the  ill  success  of  his  attempts  to 
found  a  city,  Raleigh  had  been  obliged  to  give  up  his 
patent  to  a  company  of  merchant  adventurers,  among 
whom,  however,  he  could  still  hold  a  governing  influence. 
He  had  spent  £40,000  in  his  various  expeditions,  a  sum 
immense  in  that  period.  He  saw  that  private  enterprise 
could  not  found  a  state.  He  abandoned  it  with  regret. 
But  the  idea  of  trans- Atlantic  achievements  did  not  leave 
him.  His  attention  in  future  was  to  be  turned  from 
North  to  South  America. 

When  Philip  H.,  roused  to  fury  by  the  depredations 
of  English  mariners,  prepared  to  crush  Elizabeth  by  a 
tremendous  blow,  Raleigh  was  one  of  the  most  active  in 
resisting  the  Armada.  He  even  proposed  to  the  queen 
to  attack  and  destroy  it  in  the  very  ports  of  Spain.  He 
was  one  of  the  leaders  of  that  fleet  which  met  the  huge 
ships  of  the  enemy  and  drove  them  helpless  and  intimi- 
dated through  the  British  Channel,  and  far  up  along  the 
German  sea,  until  the  whole  vast  Armada  was  dashed  to 
pieces  against  the  rocky  barriers  that  guard  the  northern 
borders  of  the  British  empire. 

Leicester  died  in  1588,  leaving  behind  him  a  repre- 
sentative destined  to  gain  a  more  powerful  influence 
over  Elizabeth  than  ever  he  had  enjoyed.  It  is  said 
that  before  he  died  he  had  grown  jealous  of  Raleigh's 
growing  fame  and  power,  and  brought  forward  his 
step-son  the  Earl  of  Essex  to  compete  with  the  new 
favorite. 


ROBERT   DEVEREUX.  77 

Yet  at  Leicester's  death  none  seemed  so  valued  by  the 
queen  as  Kaleigh.  Everything  promised  him  a  complete 
control  of  her  affections.  He  was  in  his  thirty-seventh 
year.  His  fame  had  been  extended  by  numerous  ex- 
ploits. His  wisdom  and  experience  in  all  the  affairs  of 
war  and  government  were  undoubted.  His  revenue 
must  have  been  considerable.  He  lived  with  much 
show  and  expense.  He  had  done  such  service  to  the 
nation  as  might  well  recommend  him  for  the  highest 
preferment  and  the  most  distinguished  fortune.  But  all 
his  fair  prospects  were  to  be  clouded  by  the  success  of 
his  new  competitor. 

Robert  Devereux  was  the  son  of  the  Earl  of  Essex, 
to  whose  title  he  succeeded  in  childhood.  He  left  his 
University  at  sixteen,  to  retire  to  his  estate  in  South 
Wales.  Here  he  grew  enamored  of  retirement.  He 
was  fond  of  letters,  and  believed  that  he  could  find  hap- 
piness, rather  in  the  society  of  nature  and  of  books, 
than  in  the  elevated  station  to  which  his  birth  and  for- 
tune invited  him.  The  thoughtful,  melancholy  retiring 
youth  was  reluctantly  brought  into  the  army  by  Leices- 
ter, who  had  married  his  mother,  and  at  length  was 
induced  to  appear  at  court. 

Essex  was  the  most  engaging  man  of  his  time.  His 
soft  melancholy  eye  won  every  heart.  His  fair  classic 
face,  his  noble  bearing,  his  manly  form,  his  open  heart 
and  kindly  nature  were  joined  to  undoubted  bravery, 
and  a  well-cultivated  mind.  He  was  full  of  the  fire 
and  ardor  of  youth.  His  countenance,  untrained  to  the 


78  ESSEX'S   ADVANTAGES. 

common  artifice  of  a  court,  expressed  every  feeling,  and 
glowed  with  sensibility. 

Elizabeth  received  him  with  natural  admiration.  He 
was  the  son  of  an  old  servant  who  had  died  in  her  ser- 
vice. His  high  birth  entitled  him  to  preferment.  His 
own  qualities  moved  the  heart  of  the  queen,  as  those  of 
no  other  man  had  ever  done.  She  lavished  upon  him  high 
offices.  He  was  made  at  once  her  Master  of  the  Horse. 
In  1588  he  became  a  general.  And  when  the  queen 
received  her  army  at  Tilbury,  riding  along  their  ranks 
with  an  undaunted  air,  as  if  in  defiance  of  the  coming 
Armada,  her  affection  for  Essex  was  publicly  displayed 
in  a  manner  that  might  well  excite  the  alarm  of  his 
rival. 

"With  the  haughty  spirit  of  a  Tudor,  Elizabeth  prized 
and  distinguished  high  birth  by  a  marked  preference, 
and  this  was  not  the  least  advantage  which  Essex  pos- 
sessed over  Raleigh.  To  the  queen  he  seemed  to  have 
a  better  right  to  the  great  political  offices,  than  the  des- 
cendant of  a  decayed  family  of  knights.  Yet  in  all  the 
qualities  of  the  statesman  and  the  soldier,  Raleigh  was  the 
undoubted  superior  of  his  competitor.  Essex  was  too 
hasty  for  a  good  general,  too  unskilled  in  naval  affairs, 
to  excel  upon  the  sea.  Raleigh  had  all  the  traits  which 
his  rival  wanted.  In  command  he  was  calm,  prudent, 
yet  of  dauntless  valor.  In  counsel  the  extent  of  his 
information,  his  long  experience,  his  knowledge  of  men, 
and  his  keen  penetration,  enabled  him  to  give  the  wisest 
and  most  appropriate  advice.  He  was  a  man  of  matured 


EALEIGH   AND   ESSEX.  79 

physical  and  mental  powers.  Essex  was  yet  hardly 
more  than  an  engaging,  gifted,  but  impetuous  youth. 
As  a  courtier  Haleigh  had  every  advantage.  He  knew 
all  the  secrets  of  court  intrigue.  He  had  read  the  char- 
acter of  his  mistress,  and  understood  its  excellence  and 
its  defects.  His  nature  was  secretive.  He  could  veil  his 
enmities  and  his  jealousies  under  a  mask  of  profound 
concealment.  He  could  smile  as  warmly  upon  his  ene- 
mies as  upon  his  dearest  friend.  His  heart  was  not 
too  warm  to  betray  those  whom  he  really  admired, 
should  they  come  into  dangerous  competition  with  him- 
self. His  narrow  fortunes  and  doubtful  prospects  drove 
him  to  measures  of  perfidy  to  which  his  higher  qualities 
should  have  kept  him  a  stranger.  And  as  he  now  beheld 
iiis  generous  rival  thus  suddenly  stepping  between  him 
and  fortune,  there  is  no  doubt  that  a  deadly  resolution 
entered  his  breast  to  crush  while  he  admired  him,  to 
pursue  him  by  every  art  to  disgrace,  ruin,  and  death. 

To  Essex  all  artifice  and  systematic  enmity  were  un- 
known. He  was  not  inclined  to  them  by  nature,  his 
circumstances  had  not  been  such  as  to  familiarize  them 
to  his  mind.  He  had  risen  to  the  favor  of  the  queen 
and  to  high  office  with  hardly  a  struggle.  He  had  never 
known  the  hopes,  the  disappointment,  the  bitter  delays, 
and  the  torturous  anxieties  of  a  needy  adventurer  rising 
by  court  favor.  His  warm  heart  had  never  been  frozen 
by  the  chills  of  adverse  fortune.  His  open  nature  had 
never  been  clouded  by  the  darker  mysteries  of  court 
intrigue.  The  thoughtful  youth,  who  had  fostered  a 


80  THEIK   RIVALRY. 

modest  dream  of  happiness  amid  his  books  and  his  Welsh 
solitude,  retained  much  of  his  native  simplicity  until  the 
last  moment  of  his  life. 

The  fatal  rivalry  began.  Raleigh  in  secret  conceived 
a  bitter  jealousy  of  his  more  fortunate  competitor. 
Essex  openly  showed  that  he  had  already  been  taught 
to  regard  Raleigh  as  a  dangerous  and  traitorous  foe. 
They  commenced  at  once  a  struggle  for  the  queen's 
favor.  They  contended  on  the  battle-field  which  should 
win  the  chief  renown.  They  strove  in  the  court  circles 
to  outshine  each  by  the  splendor  of  their  dress  and  the 
gallantry  of  their  bearing.  Each  sought  by  the  extrava- 
gance of  his  compliments  and  the  ardor  of  his  passion 
to  win  the  heart  of  their  royal  mistress.  Elizabeth  strove 
to  maintain  something  like  impartiality.  Even  in  her 
favoritism  she  contrived  to  benefit  her  realm.  Although 

o 

she  loved  Essex  she  continued  to  cherish  Raleigh.  She 
resolved  to  profit  by  their  rivalry  and  to  direct  their 
energies,  excited  by  emulation,  to  the  fields  where  they 
could  be  most  useful. 

It  is  painful  to  look  forward  to  the  fate  of  these  emi- 
nent men,  so  gifted  by  nature,  so  accomplished,  so  noble 
minded,  and  so  graced  with  those  qualities  that  best 
adorn  their  race — to  see  the  fair  Essex,  beloved  by  his 
nation  and  his  queen,  hunted  to  desperation  by  court 
intriguers  and  pressed  by  evil  counsellors,  lay  his  head 
upon  the  block  and  die  a  convicted  traitor  in  deed, 
though  no  man  ever  believed  him  guilty  in  design, 
while  from  a  neighboring  window  his  triumphant  rival 


THE  ENGLISH  ATTEMPT  TO  CONQUER  PORTUGAL.    81 

looked  down  upon  the  tragedy  which  he  had  caused 
and  burst  into  irrepressible  tears.  Then  gazing  a  little 
further  forward  to  witness  Raleigh's  doom :  to  behold 
his  warrior  form,  his  active  mind  shut  up  for  thirteen 
years  in  a  prison,  lost  to  his  age  although  perhaps  gained 
for  future  ages :  to  see  that  man  of  unrivalled  genius 
dragged  before  a  hostile  court  to  be  taunted  with 
the  coarsest  abuse  by  a  famous  lawyer:  to  see  that 
eminent  patriot  pronounced  a  traitorous  conspirator : 
to  behold  him  when  palsied  by  age  and  quivering  with 
fever  dragged  forth  to  die  upon  the  scaffold  in  the  old 
palace  yard,  near  the  spot  where  some  years  before  he 
had  witnessed  and  wept  over  the  death  of  Essex. 

After  the  destruction  of  the  Armada  the  English  fell 
with  double  fury  upon  Spain, 

Philip  II.  saw  with  powerless  rage  his  coasts  plundered, 
his  commerce  preyed  upon,  and  his  great  naval  ports 
taken  and  burnt  by  his  enemy.  No  exploit  now  seemed 
impossible  to  the  English.  They  even  aspired  to  con- 
quer Portugal  from  Philip  and  to  place  Don  Antonio,  a 
branch  of  the  ancient  royal  family,  upon  its  throne. 

This  attempt  to  conquer  a  kingdom  wras  a  private 
enterprise.  It  was  projected  and  carried  out  by  a  union 
of  many  eminent  and  wealthy  men.  The  great  naval 
leaders  contributed  their  services.  The  rich  nobles  and 
citizens  their  wealth.  Elizabeth  aided  the  adventurers 
with  a  few  ships  and  a  small  sum  of  money.  Sir  Francis 
Drake  led  the  naval  forces  and  Sir  John  Morris  was  to 
command  by  land.  It  was  an  enterprise  of  the  people. 

4* 


82  FATE   OF   THE   ADVENTUKEKS. 

Twenty  thousand  volunteers  joined  it  immediately. 
The  romantic  adventure  suited  the  genius  of  Englishmen. 
Raleigh  was  one  of  the  leaders.  Essex  fled  secretly 
from  court  to  share  its  dangers. 

The  adventurers  met  with  terrible  disasters.  They 
plundered  Groine,  one  of  Philip's  naval  stations,  and 
besieged  Lisbon.  But  disease  and  famine  fell  upon  them. 
Not  more  than  half  of  them  returned.  Of  seven  hundred 
gentlemen  and  nobles  only  three  hundred  and  fifty 
remained.  The  queen  professed  to  be  angry  with  Essex 
for  joining  this  expedition  without  her  permission.  His 
marriage  with  the  widow  of  Sidney  soon  after  was  a 
more  real  cause  of  displeasure.  She  was  provoked  that 
he  should  have  chosen  a  lady  of  no  higher  station  than 
the  daughter  of  Walsingham.  Yet  his  power  soon  re- 
vived. It  is  said  that  about  this  time  he  forced  his  rival 
to  leave  the  court.  Raleigh  went  to  Ireland  in  1589, 
where  he  renewed  his  intimacy  with  the  poet  Spenser. 

It  has  been  usual  to  complain  of  the  lot  of  poets. 
They  have  been  painted  as  living  in  penury  and  dying 
in  want  and  neglect.  The  name  of  Spenser  has  been 
used  in  proof  of  this,  but  with  injustice  to  his  age  and 
manifest  untruth.  The  gifted  courtiers  of  the  Elizabethan 
age  did  not  overlook  its  greatest  poet.  Spenser,  when 
under  twenty-five,  was  the  friend  of  Sidney  and  patro- 
nized by  Leicester.  He  was  the  chosen  companion  of 
both  Essex  and  Raleigh.  Lord  Grey,  as  has  been  told, 
made  him  his  secretary  for  Ireland  at  twenty-seven.  In 
1586  Elizabeth  gave  him  an  estate  of  over  three  thousand 


SPENSER    IN    EJLCOLMAN    CASTLE.  83 

acres  in  Ireland,  and  later  a  considerable  pension.  Thus 
early  honored  and  enriched  Spenser  seems  to  have 
attained  a  full  share  of  worldly  prosperity. 

The  poet  had  withdrawn  to  his  Irish  estate.  His 
home  was  Kilcolman  Castle,  in  the  county  of  Cork,  a 
spot  surrounded  by  fine  scenery.  The  castle  stood  upon 
the  banks  of  a  fair  lake,  and  was  surrounded  by  a  distant 
belt  of  mountains.  It  was  a  lonely  spot,  but  one  whose 
beauty  must  have  solaced  his  loneliness. 

He  had  already  begun  to  people  the  wilderness  with 
fair  and  stately  virgins,  with  adventurous  knights,  with 
dwarfs  and  monsters,  with  Caelias  and  Speranzas,  with 
all  the  splendors  of  Gloriana's  court.  He  had  written 
three  books  of  the  Fairy  Queen. 

Here  in  his  own  castle,  with  something  of  the  state  of 
a  knight  of  eld,  Spenser  received  Raleigh.  It  was 
natural  that  they  should  become  firm  friends.  There 
was  much  of  romantic  daring  and  untiring  activity  in 
the  character  of  Raleigh  to  allure  the  quiet  poet.  "While 
Raleigh,  who  in  his  versatile  ambition  had  himself 
aspired  to  poetic  excellence,  recognized  and  admired  in 
Spenser  the  master  of  the  art.  Spenser  in  his  lonely  dig- 
nity felt  the  want  of  a  friend.  He  had  just  lost  Sidney, 
the  paragon  of  his  time,  with  whom  he  had  lived  in  perfect 
friendship.  Raleigh  seemed  worthy  of  filling  Sidney's 
place.  He  was  the  man  of  all  others  most  renowned 
for  his  varied  achievements,  his  eminent  accomplish- 
ments, and  his  fine  taste  in  letters  and  art.  In  his  manly 
and  heroic  nature  Spenser  recognized  the  realization  of 


84:  KALEIGH  UEGES  THE  PUBLICATION  OF  THE  FAERY  QUEEN. 

those  ideal  heroes  who  had  as  yet  floated  only  in  his 
fancy  and  been  embodied  in  the  lost  Sidney. 

Raleigh  with  his  usual  energy  began  immediately  to 
advance  the  fortune  and  fame  of  his  friend.  Until  now 
Spenser  had  proceeded  languidly  with  his  great  work, 
had  even  met  with  discouraging  criticism  from  those  to 
whom  he  had  submitted  it.  But  Raleigh  saw  at  once 
its  real  value.  He  urged  Spenser  to  accompany  him  to 
London  to  publish  the  first  three  books.  They  came  out 
in  1590  under  Raleigh's  powerful  protection.  The  fame 
of  Spenser  went  through  England.  He  was  acknow- 
ledged the  finest  poet  that  England  had  ever  known.  He 
was  introduced  to  the  queen,  who  admired  and  rewarded 
him.  He  received  a  pension  of  fifty  pounds,  and  was 
the  acknowledged  court  poet. 

Thus  the  Fairy  Queen  is  the  best  monument  of 
Raleigh's  fine  literary  taste.  Without  his  just  apprecia- 
tion it  might  never  have  been  known  to  its  endless 
succession  of  admirers.  The  poet,  discouraged  by 
unfavorable  criticism  and  by  his  own  inactivity,  might 
have  suppressed  it  altogether.  And  those  sweetly 
modulated  verses,  that  vivid  play  of  grotesque  imagina- 
tion, that  pure  antiquated  diction,  and  those  ingenious 
interweavings  of  double  allegories,  of  various  truths, 
of  delicately  shadowed  moralities,  which  have  been 
the  study  and  the  wonder  of  succeeding  generations  of 
poets,  might  have  faded  and  been  forgotten  within  the 
crumbling  walls  of  Kilcolman  Castle. 

The  Fairy  Queen  was  dedicated  to  Elizabeth.     "  The 


HIS   VEESES   IN   ITS    PKAISE.  85 

most  high,  mightie,  and  magnificent  Empresse."  The 
letter  or  argument  prefixed  to  it  is  addressed  to  Raleigh, 
"  the  right  noble  and  valorous."  In  this  preface  Spen- 
ser explains  the  nature  of  his  poem.  It  is  to  be  a 
narrative  of  unreal  adventures  and  imaginary  beings 
which  yet  are  the  types  of  actual  life.  Spenser  believed 
that  he  could  make  this  method  of  inculcating  truth  more 
interesting  than  any  other.  He  urges  that  Xenophon  is 
preferred  to  Plato  because  he  has  written  allegory.  He 
hopes  to  win  men  to  morality  by  representing  vice  in 
hideous  shapes  and  virtue  in  forms  of  superhuman 
beauty.  He  declares  that  his  Fairy  Queen  is  his  royal 
mistress  Elizabeth.  But  that  she  is  also  typified  as  a 
fair  and  virtuous  lady  in  other  characters.  He  con- 
cludes with  a  modest  request  for  Raleigh's  continued 
favor  and  friendship. 

Raleigh  wrote  verses  in  praise  of  the  poem  in  which 
he  represents  the  graces  as  abandoning  the  Grave  of 
Laura  to  follow  the  Fairy  Queen.  In  which  Petrarch 
weeps  with  envy,  oblivion  falls  upon  the  herse  of  Laura, 
and  even  Homer  trembles  at  the  new  ravisher  of  fame. 
But  the  reader  will  probably  wish  to  have  some  speci- 
men of  his  poetical  powers,  and  I  introduce,  therefore, 
the  first  encomium. 

A  VISION, 

Upon  this  conceipt  of  the  Faery  Queene 

Methought  I  saw  the  grave  where  Laura  lay, 
Within  that  Temple  where  the  vestal  flame 
Was  wont  to  burn  ;  and  passing  by  that  way, 


86  SPENSER   PROFITS   BY   HIS   FRIENDSHIP. 

To  see  the  buried  dust  of  living  fame, 
Whoso  tomb  faire  Love  and  fairer  Virtue  kept, 

All  suddenly  I  saw  the  Faery  Queene  : 
At  whose  approach  the  soule  of  Petrarke  wept ; 

And  from  thenceforth  those  Graces  were  not  seene  ; 
(For  they  this  Queene  attended.)  in  whose  steed, 

Oblivion  laid  him  down  on  Laura's  herse  ; 
Kereat  the  hardest  stones  were  seen  to  bleed, 

And  grones  of  buried  ghostes  the  heavens  did  perse  ; 

Where  Homer's  spright  did  tremble  all  for  griefe, 

And  cursed  th'  accesse  of  that  celestial  thiefe. 

W.  R. 

Spenser  returned  to  his  Irish  castle  covered  with 
honors  and  emolument.  For  these  he  knew  how  much 
he  was  indebted  to  Ealeigh.  He  felt  deeply  grateful. 
In  1595,  upon  publishing  his  pastoral,  "  Colin  Clout's 
come  home  again,"  he  dedicated  it  to  Raleigh  with  ex- 
pressions of  deep  gratitude.  He  begs  Ealeigh  to  accept 
of  the  poem  "  in  part  paiment  of  the  infinite  debt,  in 
which  I  acknowledge  myself  bounden  unto  you  for  your 
singular  favors  and  sundrie  good  turns  shewed  to  me  at 
my  late  being  in  England ;  I  pray  continually  for  your 
happinesse." 

The  pastoral  is  a  poetic  narrative  of  his  own  journey 
to  England.  Ealeigh,  who  is  called  the  Shepherd  of  the 
Ocean,  being  banished  from  court  by  Elizabeth,  "  the 
Ladie  of  the  Sea,"  in  his  wanderings  discovers  Colin, 
the  poet,  piping  in  the  shade  and  singing  the  charms  of 
the  Mulla,  a  stream  that  flowed  through  Spenser's  estate. 
Ealeigh  is  charmed  by  the  rustic  strain,  and  himself 
accompanies  the  pipe  of  Colin  with  a  song. 


HIS   PASTORAL.  87 

His  song  was  all  a  lamentable  lay, 

Of  great  unkindnesse  and  of  usage  hard 
Of  Cynthia,  the  ladie  of  the  sea, 

"Which  from  her  presence  faultless  him  debarde. 

He  next  persuades  Colin  to  leave  the  wilderness  and 
accompany  lihn  to  the  court  of  Cynthia,  whom  he  repre- 
sents as  excelling  all  her  sex  in  wit  and  grace,  beauty 
and  generosity.  Colin  follows  his  new  friend  taking 
with  him  only  his  "  oaten  quill."  The  Shepherd  of  the 
Sea  leads  him  safely  over  the  boisterous  ocean,  and  they 
reach  the  presence  of  Cynthia ;  her  glorious  beauty  over- 
whelms the  imagination  of  the  rural  poet,  he  despairs 
of  being  able  to  describe  her  properly  by  all  his  rustic 
imagery,  and  he  likens  her  to  a  virgin  bride  adorned 
with  roses,  goolds  and  daffodils,  to  the  circlet  of  the 
turtle  dove  and  the  hues  of  the  rainbow.  The  Shepherd 
introduces  Colin  to  this  goddess  and  inclines  her  ear  to 
his  rude  melodies,  so  that  at  timely  hours  she  delights 
in  his  society  and  his  song.  Colin  then  sings  the  beauty 
of  the  great  ladies  whom  he  saw  at  the  court  of  Cynthia, 
but  declares  them  all  inferior  to  their  queen,  professes 
his  deathless  gratitude  to  her,  and  promises  that  he  will 
make  her  name  to  be  remembered  long  after  his  pipe 
shall  have  ceased  to  sound  for  ever. 

This  pastoral  was  a  worthy  return  for  Raleigh's  favors 
— happily  he  was  one  who  could  perceive  its  worth.  It 
is  full  of  delicate  and  ingenious  allegory.  Its  simplicity 
and  propriety  are  wonderful.  To  be  understood,  like  all 
other  works  of  art  it  must  be  studied.  The  careless 


88  RALEIGH   KESTOKED   TO   FAVOK. 

reader  would  probably  pass  it  by  in  disgust.  Yet  there 
are  few  English  poems  more  capable  of  exciting  wonder 
and  delight  than  this  graceful  narrative  by  Spenser  of 
Raleigh's  active  friendship. 

Restored  to  favor,  Raleigh  soon  gave  an  instance  of 
the  liberality  of  his  religious  opinions.  He  interceded 
with  the  queen  for  Udall,  a  learned  Puritan,  who  had 
displeased  her  by  writing  a  book  against  the  bishops. 
For  this  offence  he  had  been  thrown  into  prison,  and 
bound  with  fetters.  The  crown  lawyers  could  find  no 
proof  sufficient  for  his  conviction,  but  the  judges,  before 
whom  he  appeared,  by  a  fraud  induced  the  jury  to  con- 
vict him.  Udall  stubbornly  refused  to  recant  his  opin- 
ions and  was  condemned  to  die.  In  religious  matters 
Elizabeth  had  all  the  cruel  self-will  of  her  father,  Henry 
YHI.  She  would  never  permit  the  subject  to  profess  a 
different  creed  from  that  of  the  sovereign.  She  punished 
an  obstinate  dissenter  more  unsparingly  than  a  conspira- 
tor. Udall's  friends  came  to  Raleigh  to  beg  his  inter- 
cession. He  consented  and  spoke  with  the  queen. 
James  of  Scotland  also  interceded  for  the  brave  Puritan, 
who  unhappily  died  in  prison,  just  as  his  full  pardon 
had  been  obtained. 

In  1691,  the  famous  Sir  Richard  Greenville  waged 
his  last  and  most  terrible  fight  with  the  Spaniards.  His 
ship,  the  Revenge,  was  surrounded,  taken,  and  its  com- 
mander made  a  prisoner,  although  mortally  wounded. 
Raleigh  wrote  an  account  of  the  engagement  to  per- 
petuate the  memory  of  his  friend's  valor,  and  to  rebuke 


FATE    OF   THE   REVENGE.  89 

the  idle  boasting  of  the  Spaniards  over  the  capture  of  a 
single  English  ship. 

The  fight  had  been  long  and  bloody.  The  Revenge 
had  formed  one  of  a  small  English  fleet  which  had  been 
suddenly  attacked  by  a  large  Spanish  fleet.  Lord  Thomas 
Howard,  who  commanded,  knowing  that  his  ships  were 
in  bad  condition  as  well  as  greatly  inferior  to  the  enemy, 
determined  to  avoid  an  engagement.  He  gave  the  signal 
to  escape.  The  Revenge  was  the  last  to  obey.  Unfor- 
tunately she  was  overtaken  by  a  huge  Spanish  ship,  the 
San  Philip,  of  fifteen  hundred  tons,  mounting  four  tiers 
of  guns,  which  by  its  great  bulk  took  the  wind  from  her 
sails  and  left  her  immovable  at  its  side. 

Four -other  large  ships  immediately  attacked  her,  two 
upon  each  side.  The  Revenge  was  but  a  small  vessel 
of  a  few  hundred  tons,  with  only  a  hundred  men  fit  for 
duty :  the  Spanish  ships  were  crowded  with  soldiers. 
Yet  so  fierce  was  the  English  fire  that  the  San  Philip 
was  soon  forced  to  retreat.  The  battle  began  at  three 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon :  it  continued  with  unceasing 
fury  through  the  night.  If  the  Spaniards  attempted  to 
board  they  were  beaten  back  to  their  ships  or  flung  into 
the  sea.  Their  fire  of  cannon  and  musketry  was 
answered  by  one  more  fatal  and  dreadful.  Fifteen 
Spanish  vessels  attacked  the  single  English  bark  and 
were  defeated. 

But  as  the  morning  light  increased  the  English 
crew  diminished.  Forty  of  the  hundred  were  already 
dead,  many  of  the  others  wounded.  Sir  Richard, 


00  RALEIGH'S   NARRATIVE   OF  THE  FIGHT. 

an  hour  before  midnight,  had  been  shot  through 
the  body ;  he  now  lay  dying  below.  As  the  English 
cast  their  weary  eyes  over  the  sea  for  help  they 
saw  none  of  their  friends  near  save  a  single  pinnace 
that  was  watching  afar  the  event  of  the  fight.  They 
were  alone  in  the  midst  of  their  foes.  The  last  barrel 
of  powder  was  nearly  spent.  The. boarding-pikes  wTere 
nearly  all  broken.  The  masts  were  shot  away,  and 
the  ship  had  no  motion  but  that  given  to  it  by  the  swell 
of  the  sea. 

Greenville  saw  that  he  had  but  one  resource.  He 
resolved  to  die.  He  sent  for  his  master  gunner,  upon 
whose  courage  he  felt  he  could  rely,  and  ordered  him 
to  sink  the  ship,  that  he  might,  at  least,  escape, the  dis- 
grace of  being  taken.  He  was  resolved,  he  said,  that 
the  Spaniards  should  not  have  the  credit  of  having 
captured  a  single  English  ship.  The  master  gunner 
would  have  cheerfully  obeyed  the  command,  but  the 
other  officers  and  crew  interfered.  They  secretly  sur- 
rendered to  the  enemy. 

The  Spaniards,  amazed  at  the  courage  of  the  English, 
entered  the  Revenge  with  an  emotion  of  awe  and 
respect.  They  found  her  a  wreck  filled  with  her 
wounded  and  her  dead.  They  brought  Greenville 
fainting  on  board  of  their  admiral's  ship,  where  he  was 
treated  with  great  courtesy.  But  he  died  a  few  days 
after. 

In  this  narrative  Raleigh  assails  the  Spaniards  with 
violent  invectives,  that  mark  well  the  feelings  of  his 


HIS   HATRED   OF   SPAIN.  91 

age.  To  the  Englishmen  of  that  day  Spain  was  an 
object  of  abhorrence,  Its  pride,  its  cruelty,  and  its 
ambition  were  the  terror  of  Protestant  lands.  Raleigh, 
therefore,  dwells  with  exultation  upon  the  humiliating 
losses  which  it  had  lately  sustained  upon  the  sea.  He 
declares  that  God  fights  against  the  Spaniard.  He 
points  in  confirmation  to  the  vast  fleets  of  prizes  that 
had  been  brought  into  English  harbors,  to  the  multitude 
of  Spaniards  shot  down  at  sea  or  plunged  into  its 
depths.  He  then  relates  instances  of  their  cruelty. 
He  recounts  how  they  had  massacred  all  religions  and 
parties  in  Sicily,  Naples,  and  the  Low  countries.  How 
by  the  confession  of  one  of  their  own  bishops,  Las 
Casas,  they  had  destroyed  by  their  cruelties  three 
millions  of  people  in  their  own  Indies.  "  Who,"  he 
exclaims  to  his  countrymen,  "  who  would  put  trust  in  a 
nation  of  ravenous  strangers."  The  burden  of  his  nar- 
rative is  deadly  hatred  to  Spain. 

From  his  pen  he  flew  to  his  sword.  The  Panama 
expedition  was  preparing.  Raleigh  was  one  of  its 
chief  promoters.  It  was  designed  to  attack  the  Spanish 
American  colonies.  Raleigh  took  the  chief  command, 
having  taken  with  him  the  noted  mariner  Sir  Martin 
Erobisher.  The  queen  sent  thirteen  ships,  the  others 
were  supplied  through  Raleigh's  influence  or  at  his  own 
expense.  Hardly  had  he  sailed  when  the  queen  sent 
him  orders  to  return.  He  could  not  resolve  to  obey  at 
once.  He  remained  with  the  fleet  until  he  learned  that 
the  King  of  Spain  had  sent  orders  to  the  galleons  not  to 


92  IS   IN   DISGRACE   AT   COURT. 

sail.  He  then  changed  his  plan  and  having  divided 
the  fleet  into  two  squadrons,  one  of  which  was  to 
threaten  the  enemy's  coast,  while  the  other  was  to  lie  in 
wait  for  the  passing  caracks,  he  returned  to  England. 

His  plan  was  rewarded  with  an  unusual  prize.  The 
English  were  told  at  Flores  that  an  East  Indian  carrack 
had  jiist  passed.  They  pursued  and  rifled  her.  Then 
they  learned  that  another  and  far  greater  carrack  was 
approaching.  The  ships  spread  out  over  the  sea  more 
than  two  leagues  apart  to  intercept  the  stranger.  At 
length  the  fated  Madre  de  Dios  appeared.  She  was  the 
richest  prize  the  English  had  ever  taken.  She  was  of 
sixteen  hundred  tons  burden,  and  valued  at  five  hun- 
dred thousand  pounds.  As  she  came  into  Dartmouth 
the  shores  were  lined  with  spectators  who  filled  the  air 
with  their  acclamations.  Elizabeth  claimed  a  large 
share  of  the  plunder,  on  the  ground  that  a  small  ship 
of  her  own  fleet  had  been  present  at  the  capture,  and 
Raleigh  paid  her  for  her  proportion  one  hundred  thou- 
sand pounds,  the  largest  sum,  he  asserts,  ever  given  by 
a  subject  to  a  sovereign. 

When  the  Madre  de  Dios  arrived  in  port,  Raleigh 
was  in  disgrace  a  prisoner  in  the  Tower.  He  had 
formed  a  passion  for  one  of  the  queen's  maids  of  honor, 
the  beautiful  daughter  of  Sir  Nicholas  Throgmorton. 
Elizabeth  was  incensed  at  his  fault.  She  sent  both  the 
offenders  to  the  Tower.  Raleigh  afterwards  married  the 
lady,  who  proved  an  excellent  and  devoted  wife. 

A  letter  from  Gorges,  to  Cecil,  relates  the  extrava- 


HIS    CONDUCT   IN   THE    TOWEK.  93 

gant  conduct  of  Raleigh  while  a  prisoner,  and  was 
probably  written  to  be  shown  to  the  queen.  Raleigh 
had  heard  that  Elizabeth  was  at  Sir  George  Carew's 
and  was  about  to  make  a  progress.  He  vowed  he 
would  disguise  himself,  get  a  pair  of  oars,  and  fly  to 
ease  himself  with  a  sight  of  the  queen  ;  else  he  pro- 
tested his  heart  must  break.  Carew,  the  jailer,  refused 
to  let  him  pass  out  of  the  Tower.  In  the  dispute  they 
rose  from  choleric  words  to  a  violent  struggle.  They 
even  drew  their  daggers.  Gorges,  who  was  present, 
interfered.  But  Sir  "Walter  swore  he  would  never 
forgive  Carew  as  long  as  he  lived  if  he  did  not  allow 
him  to  see  the  queen  pass. 

If  this  scene  were  really  enacted,  it  was  but  one  of 
those  court  artifices  by  which  Elizabeth's  favor  was 
won.  Or  perhaps  it  was  only  a  pleasant  fiction  com- 
posed by  Gorges  to  serve  the  purpose  of  his  friend. 
On  a  slip  of  paper  fastened  by  wax  to  the  letter  was 
the  following  postscript:  "If  you  let  the  queen  her 
majesty  know  hereof,  as  you  think  good  be  it ;  but 
otherwise,  good  sir,  keep  it  secret  for  their  credits,  for 
they  know  not  of  my  discovery  whereof  I  could  wish 
her  majesty  knew." 

Another  letter  from  Raleigh  to  Cecil,  indicates  the 
common  language  of  the  courtiers  in  speaking  of 
Elizabeth.  "  My  heart,"  he  writes,  "  was  never  broke 
until  this  day  that  I  hear  the  queen  goes  away  so  far 
off,  whom  I  have  followed  so  many  years  with  so  great 
love  and  desire  in  so  many  journeys,  and  am  now  left 


94:  HIS   COMPLAINTS. 

behind  her  in  a  prison  all  alone.  "While  she  was  near 
at  hand,  that  I  might  hear  of  her  once  in  two  or  three 
days,  my  sorrows  were  the  less,  but  even  now  my  heart 
is  cast  into  the  depths  of  all  misery.  I  was  wont  to 
behold  her  riding  like  Alexander,  hunting  like  Diana, 
walking  like  Yenus,  the  gentle  wind  blowing  her  fair 
hair  about  her  pure  cheeks,  sometimes  sitting  on  the 
shade  like  a  goddess,  sometimes  singing  like  an  angel, 
sometimes  playing  like  Orpheus ;  behold  the  sorrow  of 
this  world !  once  amiss  hath  deprived  me  of  all.  All 
those  times  past,  the  loves,  the  sighs,  the  sorrows,  the 
desires,  cannot  they  weigh  down  one  frail  misfortune  ? 
She  is  gone,  in  whom  I  trusted,  and  of  me  hath  not  one 
thought  of  mercy,  nor  any  respect  of  that  that  was. 
Do  with  me  now  therefore,  what  you  list.  I  am  more 
weary  of  life  than  they  are  desirous  I  should  perish, 
which  if  it  had  been  for  her,  as  it  is  by  her,  I  had  been 
too  happily  born." 

In  these  complaints  and  this  extravagant  adulation 
there  was  some  sincerity.  Humiliated  and  fallen  Raleigh 
must  have  perceived  his  loss.  To  the  courtier  the  want 
of  his  mistress'  favor  was  intolerable.  "With  it  he  was 
powerful,  strong,  hopeful.  Its  loss  made  him  nothing. 
To  her  courtiers  the  proud  queen  seemed  next  in  power 
to  Divinity.  To  her  they  looked  for  bounty,  protection 
and  support.  She  inspired  them  with  fear  and  hope. 
Her  imperious  will,  even  in  her  tenderest  moments, 
awed  and  subdued  them.  It  is  not  wonderful,  therefore, 
that  to  their  eyes  she  was  something  more  than  woman. 


HIS   LOSSES.  95 

That  her  faded  charms  seemed  surpassingly  beautiful. 
That  her  smile  transported  them  with  passion.  That  her 
spare  form  and  haughty  tread  seemed  to  glow  with  the 
effulgence  of  a  goddess. 

Raleigh  now  felt  that  for  an  earthly  mistress  he  had 
lost  the  favor  of  this  divinity.  He  had  wounded  her 
vanity,  her  tenderest  point.  Thrice  had  Elizabeth  been 
thus  deceived.  Leicester,  Essex,  Ealeigh  had  each 
dared  to  love  another  while  professing  a  boundless 
attachment  to  herself.  She  had  relented  to  the  others, 
and  at  length  pardoned  Raleigh.  He  was  confined  imtil 
September,  1592,  when  he  went  to  the  west  of  England 
to  look  after  his  share  of  the  Madre  de  Dios.  It  proved 
large.  Yet  he  complains  that  she  drew  several  feet  less 
water  than  when  first  taken,  from  the  large  .quantities 
of  gems  and  treasure  of  which  she  had  been  plundered 
by  his  fellow  adventurers. 

He  now  wanted  this  supply.  During  his  imprison- 
ment his  enemies  had  taken  advantage  of  his  disgrace 
to  injure  his  fortune.  They  had  levied  for  a  pretended 
debt  upon  his  Irish  estate,  and  seized  five  hundred  head 
of  cattle  belonging  to  his  tenantry.  They  had  even 
taken  possession  of  one  of  his  castles,  about  which  there 
was  some  legal  contest;  and  had  inflicted  upon  him 
other  indignities.  It  was  a  part  of  Elizabeth's  policy  to 
prove  to  him  that  as  she  had  given  she  could  also  take 
away.  That  her  favor  was  not  to  be  forfeited  withoul 
severe  retribution.  In  the  session  of  Parliament  of  the 
year  1693,  he  was  a  frequent  speaker.  His  power  in 


96  SIR   WALTER   IN   PARLIAMENT. 

debate  was  not  less  than  his  other  gifts.  His  remarkable 
versatility  seemed  to  embrace  all  intellectual  excellence. 

When  the  subsidy,  which  the  queen  demanded  for 
the  support  of  her  military  expeditions,  was  being  dis- 
cussed, some  members  proposed  that  the  bill  should 
declare  that  they  were  given  for  the  purpose  of  waging 
open  war  with  Spain.  Sir  "Walter  rose  to  support  the 
motion.  Hostilities  had  been  heretofore  carried  on 
against  Philip  without  an  open  declaration  of  war. 
Raleigh  advocated  a  change  of  policy.  He  said  he 
knew  many  that  held  it  unlawful  in  conscience,  as  the 
times  were,  to  take  prizes  from  the  Spaniards,  who,  if 
war  were  declared,  would  enter  with  ardor  into  the 
contest.  He  was  one  of  those  appointed  to  draw  the 
preamble  of  the  bill,  and  defended  it  by  a  speech  glow- 
ing with  his  usual  hatred  against  Spain.  He  said  Philip 
hated  England  and  had  beleagured  it  on  all  sides.  In 
Denmark  he  had  brought  over  the  young  king  and  the 
chief  nobility  to  his  interest,  so  that  his  shipping  might 
use  its  harbors  as  their  own.  All  through  the  Low 
Countries  he  was  collecting  a  great  fleet.  The  French 
Parliament  was  in  his  interest,  and  the  best  havens  of 
Brittany  in  his  power.  Scotland  had  been  won  by  the 
promise  of  an  army  to  re-establish  popery.  While  in 
Spanish  ports  sixty  galleons  were  building  and  a  new 
armada  was  preparing  to  seize  upon  Plymouth  and 
invade  England.  The  times,  Ealeigh  asserted,  were 
more  dangerous  than  in  1588. 

This  was  the  anticipation  that  haunted  Englishmen. 


DANGEK   FROM    SPAIN.  3Y 

Spain  was  still  believed  to  possess  inexhaustible  re- 
sources. Her  land  forces  and  her  generals  were  known 
to  be  the  best  in  Europe.  On  the  sea  she  might  pre- 
pare a  fleet  of  such  vast  weight  of  tonnage  and  metal, 
as  would  defy  the  assaults  of  the  more  skillful  English, 
and  sink  their  light  vessels  in  the  waves.  Terrible 
visions  therefore  rose  before  the  public  mind,  of  a  Span- 
ish army  marching  upon  London ;  of  the  returning  rule 
of  a  pitiless  Inquisition ;  of  the  approach  of  the .  hated 
Philip,  to  light  anew  the  fires  of  Smithfield  with  a 
more  unsparing  hand,  than  when,  as  the  husband  of 
Mary,  he  had  wreaked  the  vengeance  of  Rome  upon 
Ridley  and  Latimer.  The  -Spanish  Inquisition  was  no 
imaginary  thing  to  Englishmen.  They  had  felt  the 
cruel  grasp  of  the  Inquisitor,  and  had  seen  with  horror 
the  smoke  of  many  an  auto-de-f^.  The  same  Philip 
who  now  threatened  them  with  subjugation,  had 
governed  England  in  the  name  of  Mary,  had  introduced 
the  Spanish  mode  of  treating  with  Protestants,  had 
answered  their  arguments  by  the  whip,  the  flame,  the 
stake. 

Raleigh  thought  himself  bound  to  combat  Spain  by 
his  pen,  his  voice,  his  sword.  The  queen  and  the 
people  acknowledged  his  patriotic  zeal.  Elizabeth  felt 
the  value  of  his  services.  He  regained  her  favor.  In 
1593  he  obtained  by  her  gift  the  Manor  of  Sherbroke, 
and  not  long  after  had  hopes  of  being  admitted  of  the 
Privy  Council. 

About  this  time  the  charge  of  Atheism  was  first 

5 


98  RALEIGH    CHARGED   WITH   ATHEISM. 

brought  against  him.  A  charge  that  was  seized  upon 
by  his  enemies  to  diminish  his  power,  and  which  has 
been  countenanced  among  posterity  by  the  insinuations 
of  Hume.  Its  origin  proves  it  to  have  been  groundless. 
The  King  of  Spain  had  founded  at  Valladolid  an  Eng- 
lish cloister  designed  to  propagate  the  Roman  Catholic 
dogmas  and  politics  in  England.  Elizabeth  met  the 
danger  by  a  severe  proclamation  against  foreign  semi- 
naries and  popish  emissaries.  Of  this  measures  Raleigh 
was  supposed  the  chief  instigator.  He  became  an 
object  of  bitter  hatred  to  the  Jesuits.  Parsons,  one  of 
their  number,  having  written  a  violent  libel  against  the 
various  members  of  the  queen's  court,  who  had  been 
instrumental  in  advising  the  late  proceeding  against  his 
own  sect,  endeavored  to  fasten  upon  Raleigh  the  stigma 
of  Atheism.  He  accuses  him  of  belonging  to  a  class 
of  thinkers  who  had  lately  arisen  in  France  and  Italy, 
and  who  doubted  the  prevailing  belief.  Of  this  school 
the  Jesuit  calls  Raleigh  a  doctor  and  founder,  and  asserts 
that  he  was  engaged  in  disseminating  its  principles 
among  the  young  gentlemen  of  the  court. 

His  enemies  never  permitted  the  accusation  to  be  for- 
gotten. It  was  constantly  repeated  to  the  queen,  until 
Elizabeth  is  said  to  have  so  far  believed  it  as  to  sharply 
rebuke  Raleigh  for  the  freedom  of  his  opinions.  It  was 
generally  believed  among  the  people.  And  when  the 
chief  justice  pronounced  sentence  of  death  upon  him,  he 
alluded,  with  malicious  pleasure,  to  the  common  report, 
urging  Raleigh  to  repent  of  his  unchristian  speculations. 


CHARACTER   OF   HIS    INTELLECT.  09 

Raleigh's  mind  was  of  a  thoughtful  cast,  skeptical, 
earnest,  and  of  untiring  activity.  Upon  every  subject 
he  probably  reasoned  and  spoke  freely.  It  could  hardly 
have  happened  that  men  like  Bacon,  Burleigh,  Coke  and 
Cecil,  Raleigh  and  Essex  could  have  met  often  without 
much  liberal  discussion  upon  theological  dogmas.  It 
was  likely  that  in  the  antiquarian  society  to  which 
Raleigh  belonged,  in  company  with  Camden  and  many 
other  learned  men,  and  where  a  wide  range  of  subjects 
were  debated  weekly,  by  the  best  intellects  of  a  gifted  age, 
there  would  be  many  opinions  avowed  and  maintained, 
that  must  differ  much  from  the  standard  of  the  day. 
But  beside  his  own  fearless  independence  of  thought 
there  is  nothing  that  supports  the  charge  of  the  Jesuits. 
His  writings,  and  especially  his  history,  teem  with  recog- 
nitions of  the  Divine  power.  He  died  professing  the 
Protestant  faith,  in  communion  with  the  church,  and 
under  the  ministration  of  one  of  its  dignitaries. 

Robert  Cecil  was  now  fast  rising  to  power.  He  was 
the  son  of  Lord  Burleigh,  the  heir  of  his  consummate 
tact.  His  deformed  body  concealed  a  master  mind. 
Lord  Burleigh  was  poor,  and  Cecil  felt  that  he  must  rise 
as  his  father  had  risen.  He  was  now  of  sufficient  im- 
portance to  become  the  rival  and  professed  friend  of 
both  Essex  and  Raleigh.  There  is  no  doubt  that  Cecil 
looked  upon  these  gifted  men  from  the  first  with  envious 
dislike.  They  possessed  all  that  he  must  ever  want,  the 
admiration  of  their  queen,  uncommon  natural  advan- 
tages, the  fame  of  heroes,  and  the  applause  of  their 


100  EL    DOKADO. 

country.  They  Lad  risen  to  power  by  no  low  chicanery. 
They  were  graced  with  a°  taste  for  letters,  to  which  the 
narrow  mind  of  Cecil  was  a  stranger.  They  adorned 
their  age  with  a  matchless  grace  that  he  could  never 
hope  to  rival.  Yet  the  misshapen  intriguer  never 
doubted  his  own  success.  In  the  elevated  natures  of  his 
rivals  he  saw  hope  for  himself.  Far  as  they  seemed 
above  him  he  felt  that  he  could  bring  them  down  to  the 
dust.  He  felt  that  with  all  their  advantages  they  had 
great  weaknesses.  He  relied  upon  their  errors.  Ra- 
leigh's  ever-soaring  imagination,  and  the  impetuous 
nature  of  Essex,  were  to  Cecil  sure  presages  of  his  own 
triumph.  He  at  first  joined  himself  to  Raleigh,  and 
used  his  influence  against  the  earl.  When  Essex  was 
no  more  he  sacrificed  his  pretended  friend.  Both  Ra- 
leigh and  Essex  became  Cecil's  victims. 

An  El  Dorado  was  now  glowing  before  Raleigh's 
sanguine  fancy,  and  employing  all  his  versatile  faculties. 
He  believed  that  he  had  discovered  a  land  where  the 
cities  were  paved  with  silver,  the  palaces  lined  and 
roofed  with  gold,  where  a  descendant  of  thelncas  reigned 
with  a  splendor  unexampled  even  in  Peru.  It  was  no 
mere  speculation  like  that  which  had  allured  him  to 
Virginia,  but  one  that  rested  on  the  authority  of  an  eye- 
witness, who  had  visited  Manoa,  and  whose  account  was 
rendered  probable  by  concurrent  circumstances  and  the 
traditions  of  the  Spaniards.  He  believed  that  he  could 
point  out  the  very  site  of  the  city ;  that  he  could  reach 
it  with  little  trouble.  It  was  lying  a  ready  prey  for  the 


ITS   ALLUREMENTS.  101 

invader.  Its  stores  of  gold  and  precious  stones  might 
readily  be  ravished  from  the  feeble  inhabitants.  They 
would  make  England  the  wealthiest  of  nations. 

The  El  Dorado  was  hidden  amid  the  wilderness  of 
Guiana,  the  northeastern  province  of  South  America. 
Here  Raleigh  sailed  with  an  expedition  prepared  at  his 
own  expense,  with  the  hope  of  regaining  his  wonted 
influence  over  the  queen  and  repairing  his  fortune  by 
some  sudden  exploit.  The  result  was  unfortunate.  In- 
stead of  a  city  of  gold  he  found  only  a  frightful  wilder- 
ness, and  a  small  Spanish  settlement.  He  penetrated 
up  the  river  Orinoco  in  boats,  but  found  nothing  that 
encouraged  him  to  hope.  Except  some  Spanish  legends 
and  marvellous  inventions  he  gained  nothing  that  could 
assure  him  of  the  existence  of  the  city.  His  confidence 
however  outlived  the  disappointment.  He  returned  to 
England  with  his  imagination  glowing  with  wonders. 
He  published  an  account  of  his  voyage,  in  which  he 
asserted  his  belief  that,  notwithstanding  his  own  ill  suc- 
cess, there  did  exist  a  city  and  an  empire  within  the 
limits  of  Guiana,  fairer,  richer  and  more  splendid  than 
his  tongue  could  tell. 

Hume,  who  did  not  understand  Raleigh,  and  who 
never  had  a  just  conception  of  heroic  nature,  pronounces 
this  narrative  to  be  full  of  "  improbable  lies."  He  evi- 
dently supposes  that  Ealeigh  wished  to  impose  upon  the 
world,  but  with  what  motive  he  does  not  tell.  If  it 
were  a  deceit,  Raleigh  was  the  only  one  who  would  suffer 
from  the  deception.  It  was  at  his  expense,  or  that  of 


102  HUME   UNABLE   TO    UNDERSTAND   EALEIGH. 

his  friends,  that  the  expedition  against  Guiana  was  pre- 
pared. He  risked  his  own  life  upon  the  adventure. 
He  crossed  dangerous  seas,  penetrated  into  a  barbarous 
wilderness,  threw  himself  amid  the  savage  inhabitants, 
and  returned  with  the  broken-hearted  anguish  of  a  dis- 
appointed discoverer.  Here  are  no  traces  of  deception. 
]STo  preconcerted  plan  of  imposition,  nothing  to  be  gained 
by  the  fraud. 

Hume  was  blind  to  that  dreamy  enthusiasm  which 
marked  the  characters  of  the  eminent  men  of  this  age,  to 
the  peculiar  earnestness  and  elevation  of  their  thoughts, 
the  grand  and  fanciful  nature  of  their  speculations.  He 
could  not  understand  how  the  wise*  and  prudent  Raleigh 
could  yet  be  enslaved  by  the  most  sanguine  of  imagina- 
tions. How  he  who  fought  and  studied  and  wrote  so 
well  could  be  living  in  a  world  of  dreams,  and  be  ever 
deluded  by  some  constantly  recurring  phantom.  He 
smiled  scornfully  upon  the  euphuistic  pages  of  the  Arca- 
dia, the  fanciful  glories  of  the  Fairy  Queen.  To  his 
philosophy  all  enthusiasm,  was  imposture.  He  could 
not  believe  that  a  wise  man  could  be  an  enthusiast ;  if 
he  professed  to  be  governed  by  an  extraordinary  motive, 
he  must  do  it  with  an  intent  to  deceive. 

Raleigh  relates  his  impressions  of  El  Dorado  and 
whence  they  came  in  a  manner  that  might  have  con- 
vinced the  historian  of  his  sincerity.  He  writes  with 
simplicity,  earnestness  and  confidence.  "Many  years 
ago,"  he  states,  "  I  knew  by  relation  of  that  mighty,  rich 
and  beautiful  empire  of  Guiana,  and  of  that  great  and 


EL   DORADO.  103 

golden  city,  which  the  Spaniards  call  El  Dorado,  and 
the  naturals  Manoa,  which  city  was  conquered,  re-edified 
and  enlarged  by  a  younger  son  of  Guianacapa,  Emperor 
of  Peru,  at  such  time  as  Francis  Pizarro  and  others 
conquered  said  empire  from  his  two  elder  brothers." 
Thus  the  vision  first  rose  upon  his  mind.  It  was  sus- 
tained by  many  circumstances.  In  itself  it  was  not 
more  improbable  than  the  discoveries  and  conquests 
which  had  already  been  made.  The  achievements  of 
Cortes  and  Pizarro,  magnified  by  common  report,  had 
equalled  the  picture  which  Raleigh  drew.  They  had  in 
fact  found  cities  in  which  were  temples  and  palaces 
roofed  with  gold,  in  which  the  precious  metals  were 
almost  as  common  as  iron  and  lead  in  England.  The 
eastern  border  of  South  America,  upon  which  El  Dorado 
was  reported  to  be  situated,  was  wholly  unexplored.  It 
was  known  only  to  be  watered  by  immense  rivers,  and 
its  interior  to  be  hidden  from  the  world  by  a  broad 
wilderness.  No  good  reason  could  be  given  why,  within 
this  circle  of  gloom,  a  city  like  Cuzco  might  not  be  found. 
It  was,  indeed,  very  likely  that  that  capital  was  not  the 
only  city  upon  the  vast  continent.  Tradition  indicated 
another,  and  tradition  had  been  the  guide  which  led 
Pizarro  to  Peru.  He  had  followed  the  intimations  of 
the  natives  and  found  the  land  of  gold. 

These  considerations,  which  might  have  made  the 
existence  of  El  Dorado  appear  probable  to  the  coolest 
reasoner  of  the  time,  had  a  far  stronger  effect  upon  the 
sanguine  temper  of  Raleigh.  With  him  the  bare  tradi- 


101  HIS    DESIGN    IN   PUBLISHING    HIS    NARRATIVE. 

tioii  became  a  received  truth'.  His  imagination  fired  at 
the  glowing  and  imposing  nature  of  its  details.  The 
fables  of  Martinez,  who  pretended  to  have  visited  the  city, 
to  have  spent  two  days  in  passing  from  one  extremity 
to  the  other,  and  to  have  witnessed  every  fact  he  related, 
were  the  confirmation  of  his  vision.  His  ambition  urged 
him  to  believe,  his  declining  favor  made  it  almost 
necessary  to  his  safety  to  discover  some  new  field  of 
enterprise.  Here  was  one  that  offered  to  him  fame, 
wealth  and  power,  such  as  no  other  subject  could  boast. 
Should  his  expedition  succeed  he  would  be  the  greatest 
subject  of  the  realm — hp  should  outvie  Essex,  bafile 
Cecil,  and  win  the  lasting  preference  of  the  queen. 
Sad  delusion  that  it  was,  it  brought  him  to  the  scaf- 
fold! 

His  object  in  publishing  his  narrative  was  to  gain  the 
support  of  the  queen  and  the  public  to  a  new  expedi- 
tion. He  had  returned  from  his  first  attempt  brokeri  in 
health  and  injured  in  fortune.  "For  myself,"  said  he, 
"  I  am  a  beggar  and  withered."  Yet  he  declares  he 
will  spend  his  life  in  the  pursuit  of  the  golden  city. 
With  great  art  and  plausibility  he  recommends  the 
scheme  to  his  countrymen.  "If  any  one,"  he  adds, 
"  shall  occupy  and  conquer  the  same,  he  would  do  more 
than  ever  was  done  to  Mexico  by  Cortes  or  in  Peru  by 
Pizarro.  Whatsoever  prince  shall  possess  it,  that  prince 
shall  be  lord  of  more  gold  and  of  a  more  beautiful 
empire  and  more  cities  and  people  than  either  the 
king  of  Spain  or  the  Great  Turk."  He  describes  it  as 


WONDEKS  OF  THE  EL  DORADO.  105 

lying  beneath  the  equinoctial  line  eastward  from  Peru, 
toward  the  sea.  It  stood  by  the  side  of  a  lake  resem- 
bling in  size  the  Caspian  Sea.  It  resembled  Cuzco  but 
was  more  magnificent.  The  service  of  its  palaces  was 
all  of  gold.  Great  golden  statues  adorned  their  cham- 
bers, and  the  commonest  utensils  were  made  of  silver. 
It  was  even  related  that  it  had  gardens  in  which  trees, 
flowers,  and  fruits  were  wrought  of  gold. 

He  declines  to  enter  upon  an  account  of  the  manners, 
laws,  and  character  of  its  people,  because  he  had  not 
visited  it  in  person  and  could  give  only  the  report  of 
others.  He  enlarges  upon  the  wonders  which  will  in 
that  wilderness  gratify  the  curiosity  of  the  explorer. 
He  tells  that  the  river  Orinoco  runs  two  thousand  miles 
east  and  west,  and  sends  forth  its  tributaries  eight  hun- 
dred north  and  south,  amid  a  country  rich  in  gold  and 
merchandise  and  peopled  with  prosperous  nations. 

He  adds  that  "  the  common  soldier  shall  here  fight 
for  gold  and  pay  himself,  instead  of  pence,  with  plate 
half  a  foot  broad,  where  he  breaks  his  bones  in  others' 
wars  for  provender  and  penury.  Those  commanders 
that  shoot  at  honor  and  abundance  shall  find  more  rich 
and  beautiful  cities,  more  temples  adorned  with  golden 
images,  more  sepulchres  filled  with  treasure  than  either 
Cortes  found  in  Mexico,  or  Pizarro  in  Peru.  There  is 
no  country  which  yields  more  pleasure  to  the  inhabitants 
either  for  those  common  delights  of  hunting,  hawking, 
and  fishing  than  Guiana  hath." 
.  When  this  splendid  vision  was  presented  to  English- 


106 


men,  authenticated  by  the  wise,  valiant,  and  powerful 
Raleigh,  it  was  received  with  a  mingled  credulity  and 
doubt.  The  ore  which  he  had  brought  back  proved 
worthless.  His  success  in  Yirginia  had  not  been  such 
as  to  support  his  authority  in  these  matters.  There  he 
had  promised  mines  of  gold  and  boundless  conquests, 
but  there  his  plan  of  colonization  had  been  wholly 
foiled.  A  •  suspicion  was  already  abroad  that  Sir 
Walter's  plans  of  discovery  were  of  doubtful  worth. 
Yet  there  were  many  who  yielded  to  his  eloquence. 
In  December,  1595,  he  was  already  preparing  an  expe- 
dition for  Guiana  with  new  hopes  of  success.  "  There 
be  great  means  made,"  writes  White  to  Sir  Robert 
Sidney ;  "for  Sir  Walter  Raleigh's  coming  to  court. 
He  lives  about  London  very  gallant.  His  voyage  goes 
forward  and  my  Lord  Treasurer  ventures  with  him 
Five  hundred  pound  in  money.  Sir  Robert  Cecil  ven- 
tures a  new  ship,  bravely  furnished ;  the  very  hull 
stands  in  Eight  hundred  pound." 

Keymis,  his  faithful  captain,  was  to  command  the 
expedition.  He  sailed  in  January  1596,  and  returned 
in  June.  Keymis  was  wholly  unsuccessful.  He 
returned  without  a  trace  of  the  imaginary  wealth  which 
had  been  promised.  Yet  he  continued  to  keep  up  the 
delusion.  He  published  an  account  of  his  voyage  in 
which  he  promises  that  when  in  some  other  age  some 
fortunate  adventurer  shall  discover  and  admire  the 
the  riches  of  the  place,  they  shall  celebrate  the  public- 
spirit  of  Sir  Walter  Raleigh.  He  declares  that  the  rest 


THE   EXPEDITION   TO   CADIZ.  107 

»f  his  life  should  be  dedicated  to   the  discovery  and 
Conquest  of  that  fine  country." 

At  his  captain's  return  Raleigh  was  gone  with  the 
expedition  against  Cadiz.  Elizabeth,  alarmed  at 
the  force  which  Philip  was  forming  in  his  harbors, 
resolved  to  destroy  it  before  it  could  be  united.  This 
plan  had  been  suggested  by  Sir  Walter  in  1588.  He 
was  now  to  be  permitted  to  carry  it  out  with  perfect 
success.  Cadiz  was  full  of  merchantmen  laden  with 
precious  commodities,  with  the  material  of  those  arma- 
ments that  were  to  conquer  England. 

The  queen  sent  forth  upon  this  expedition  the  splen- 
did retinue  of  her  court.  It  was  led  by  those  whom 
she  most  favored  and  admired.  Lord  Efiingham  com- 
manded the  naval  force,  Essex  the  army.  To  these 
were  added  a  council,  composed  of  Lord  Thomas 
Howard,  Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  Sir  F.  Vere,  Carew  and 
Clifford.  The  fleet  numbered  one  hundred  and  fifty 
vessels,  only  seventeen  of  which  were  of  the  first  class. 
The  land  forces  and  seamen  numbered  near  fifteen 
thousand  men.  The  Dutch  contributed  twenty-two 
ships,  besides  soldiers  and  seamen. 

Essex  and  Raleigh  were  now  to  fight  side  by  side. 
They  glowed  with  emulation.  But  Raleigh  must  have 
felt  deeply  the  superiority  which  his  rival  had  attained. 
While  he  held  only  a  subordinate  station  Essex  had  a 
chief  command.  His  experience,  known  valor,  and 
mature  age,  had  all  been  overlooked  by  Elizabeth,  to 
gratify  the  ambition  of  her  young  favorite. 


108  RALEIGHS'S   CONDUCT   TOWARDS   ESSEX. 

Pining  with  concealed  mortification,  Raleigh  soon 
came  into  collision  with  one  of  his  rival's  friends,  Sir 
F.  Yere,  who,  as  lord  marshal,  had  been  appointed  to 
supply  temporarily  the  place  of  Essex.  He  at  once 
claimed  precedence  of  Raleigh,  a  point  of  honor  upon 
which  he  was  peculiarly  sensitive.  Raleigh  resented 
this  claim  as  a  bitter  affront.  The  dispute,  however, 
was  arranged  by  Essex,  who  decided  that  at  sea 
Raleigh  should  take  precedence,  Yere  on  the  land. 

Dissensions  seem  to  have  ran  high  between  the 
friends  of  the  two  rivals.  They  even  quarrelled  at 
table  in  the  presence  of  the  chiefs  of  the  expedition. 
Upon  some  fancied  affront  to  Raleigh,  Arthur  Throck- 
morton,  his  brother-in-law,  used  such  hot  language  in 
his  defence,  that  the  lord  general  commanded  him 
away  from  his  presence.  Yet  Essex  afterward  became 
reconciled  to  him,  and  at  the  return  of  the  expedition, 
had  him  knighted. 

As  for  Raleigh  himself,  he  acted  towards  Essex  with 
the  most  prudent  respect.  He  was  careful  to  show  no 
outward  signs  of  enmity.  To  his  own  heart  alone  he 
told  those  secret  repinings,  those  fierce  enmities  which 
he  cherished  incessantly.  The  armament  arrived  before 
Cadiz  without  awakening  the  alarm  of  the  enemy.  Its 
port  was  filled  with  rich  merchantmen,  unsuspicious 
of  the  danger  which  threatened  them.  The  English 
captured  every  vessel  that  could  give  intelligence  to 
the  enemy. 

Cadiz,  seated  upon  an  island  that  shelters  its  harbor, 


109 


was  the  first  object  that  attracted  the  attention  of  the 
adventurers.  Essex  proposed  to  land  at  once  to  assault 
the  town.  Lord  Effingham,  willing  to  save  his  vessels 
as  much  as  possible,  consented.  The  troops  were  already 
in  the  boats,  and  the  landing  was  about  to  be  attempted, 
when  Raleigh  suddenly  joined  the  fleet  from  chasing 
some  scattered  vessels.  The  wind  now  blew  strongly  and 
the  surf  was  beating  upon  the  coast/  Even  already  the 
boats  could  hardly  live  in  the  ruffled  water.  Raleigh 
saw  that  to  attempt  a  landing  in  such  weather  would 
bring  destruction  upon  all  who  embarked.  He  hastened 
to  Essex  to  point  out  to  him  the  danger,  and  when 
he  seemed  unwilling  to  retreat  from  his  resolution, 
urged  it  so  strongly  and  his  opinion  was  so  generally 
adopted  by  the  other  commanders,  that  Essex  yielded. 
Raleigh  then  flew  in  his  boat  to  the  lord  admiral,  who 
also  saw  the  prudence  of  his  advice.  It  was  deter- 
mined that  the  English  should  enter  the  harbor  and 
attack  the  fleet. 

As  Raleigh  came  back  from  his  interview  with  Effing- 
ham  he  called  out  to  Essex,  as  he  passed,  "  Intramus." 
Then  Essex  flung  his  hat  into  the  sea  mad  with  joy  at 
the  prospect  of  winning  conspicuous  fame  at  the  head 
of  the  invaders.  He  was  disappointed.  The  queen, 
doubting  his  prudence,  had  sent  instructions  that  he 
should  remain  in  the  van,  and  that  the  attack  should 
be  led  by  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  and  Lord  Thomas 
Howard. 

The   account  of  this  'exploit  has  been   written  by 


110  THE  ATTACK. 

Raleigh,  in  a  clear  and  accurate  manner.     It  marks  well 
the  vigor  and  daring  of  the  brave  English  mariners. 

It  was  now  too  late  to  attack  the  enemy  that  night. 
The  soldiers  were  yet  in  the  boats  and  must  be  got  aboard 
their  ships.  "When  this  was  done  the  fleet  anchored  for 
the  night  at  the  mouth  of  the  harbor.  Raleigh's  advice 
seems  to  have  been  the  guide  of  his  superiors.  At  ten 
o'clock,  he  wrote  to  Effingham  a  plan  of  assault  which 
was  adopted.  He  advised  that  the  fleet  should  not  rely 
upon  cannon  in  attacking  the  great  galleons,  but  that 
boats  should  be  provided  to  board.  Efimgham  promised 
to  furnish  him  with  boats,  but  does  not  appear  to  have 
fulfilled  his  promise.  Raleigh  was  elated  by  the  danger- 
ous post  assigned  him.  He  rejoiced  in  the  opportunity 
of  wresting  fame  from  the  grasp  of  his  rival. 

With  the  first  peep  of  dawn  he  weighed  anchor  and 
led  the  fleet  onward  towards  the  harbor.  All  night 
the  Spaniards  had  been  busy  with  preparations  for 
defence.  Upon  the  walls  of  the  town  a  long  battery 
of  cannon  bore  upon  the  invaders.  Seventeen  galleys 
lay  beneath  the  walls  of  fort  St.  Philip  which  com- 
manded the  harbor,  to  annoy  and  embarrass  the  English. 
Culverins,  cannon,  and  musketry  were  prepared  to  rain 
down  destruction  upon  them  from  the  land. 

On  the  water  the  great  Spanish  ships  the  St.  Philip, 
the  St.  Thomas,  the  St.  Andrew ;  with  ten  great  gal- 
leons of  Portugal,  many  frigates,  and  a  fleet  of  forty 
merchantmen,  were  under  the  command  of  the  vice- 
admiral  of  all  Spain.  The  ships  of  war  were  drawn  up 


KALEIGII   IN   THE   WABSPITE.  Ill 

side  by  side  in  a  narrow  strait  leading  to  Puerto  Reale 
under  the  guns  of  Port  St.  Philip.  On  their  right,  were 
placed  the  frigates.  Behind  were  the  argosies,  and  the 
Lisbon  galleons.  The  seventeen  galleys  were  ordered 
to  interlace  the  ships,  so  as  to  form  an  impenetrable 
barrier  across  the  strait.  The  galleys,  however,  were 
not  yet  in  their  places.  They  awaited  under  the  walls 
of  the  port  with  their  prows  turned  towards  the  invaders, 
hoping  to  take  advantage  of  the  wrecks  which  it  was 
believed  the  fire  from  the  forts  and  the  long  line  of  can- 
non would  occasion. 

Raleigh,  in  the  "Warspite,  moved  steadily  onward  at 
the  head  of  his  fleet,  followed  by  six  large  ships  of  war, 
twelve  London  vessels,  and  the  boats.  As  his  ship 
entered  the  mouth  of  the  harbor,  it  was  assailed  by  a 
general  fire  from  the  fort  St.  Philip,  the  walls  of  the 
town,  and  the  galleys.  He  answered  only  with  scorn. 
To  the  Spanish  guns  he  replied  by  a  blast  of-  English 
trumpet.  To  each  gun  a  loud  mocking  blast.  In  this 
scorn  there  was  something  terrible.  Calm  and  irresis- 
tible he  led  the  way  onward  to  the  devoted  ships. 

His  followers  were  not  so  patient.  They  fell  upon 
the  galleys  with  a  fire  that  drove  them  from  beneath  the 
fort  to  the  shelter  of  the  galleons.  As  they  passed 
Raleigh  gave  them  a  running  fire,  in  the  way,  he  says, 
of  a  "benediction." 

Then  as  he  drew  near  the  great  Spanish  ships,  and 
placed  himself  close  at  their  side,  he  remembered  the 
death  of  Greenville.  The  St.  Philip,  and  the  St. 


112  AN   INDECISIVE   CONTEST. 

Andrews,  npon  which  lie  flung  himself  with  ardor,  had 
"been  present  and  aided  in  the  capture  of  his  friend. 
They  were  now  to  meet  with  a  doom  that  would  have 
satisfied  the  fierce  spirit  of  Greenville. 

Raleigh  was  supported  on  the  one  side  by  Lord 
Thomas  Howard,  on  the  other,  by  the  Mary  Rose,  and 
the  Dreadnought.  Essex,  in  the  van,  saw  with  im- 
patience the  danger  and  the  glory  of  his  rival.  Forget- 
ting the  commands  of  the  queen,  he  pressed  forward 
in  the  Repulse,  until  he  was  nearly  on  a  line  with  the 
Warspite.  As  yet,  however,  Raleigh  was  at  the  head 
of  all,  the  object  of  envy  to  all  his  companions.  A 
fierce  emulation  to  be  first  had  seized  the  rival  leaders, 
and  no  man  was  satisfied  with  his  position  unless  he  was 
in  the  front  of  danger. 

After  three  hours  of  cannonading,  Raleigh  grew 
weary  of  the  indecisive  contest.  "While  the  balls  flew 
as  thick  as  in  a  skirmish  of  infantry,  he  leaped  into  a 
skiff  and  passed  over  to  the  Repulse  to  complain  to 
Essex  of  the  absence  of  the  boats  with  which  Eflingham 
was  to  have  provided  him.  He  begged  the  earl  to 
return  and  hasten  their  coming.  He  assured  him  that 
he  would  fight  no  longer  in  this  unsatisfactory  manner ; 
that  he  must  board  the  enemy  or  be  sunk  by  their  fire. 
Essex  told  him  that  if  he  wished  to  board  he  would 
second  him. 

While  they  were  talking,  Yere,  eager  to  be  first, 
urged  his  ship  forward  beyond  that  of  Raleigh.  How- 
ard not  to  be  out-clone,  pressed  onward  before  Vere ; 


THE   DISMAY   OF   THE   SPANIARDS.  113 

so  that  Raleigh  was  now  the  third  from  the  front.  This 
was  not  to  be  borne.  He  hastened  back  to  the  War- 
spite,  let  slip  her  anchor,  and  urging  her  onward  before 
all  his  competitors,  laid  her  athwart  the  channel  so  that 
none  could  pass  again.  Essex  gained  the  next  position. 
Howard  had  fastened  a  line  to  the  Warspite  to  draw 
his  ship  to  her  side,  but  her  sailors  cut  it  off  and  he  fell 
behind.  So  eager  were  these  fearless  mariners  to  meet 
that  dreadful  fire,  which  was  poured  down  upon  them 
by  the  enemy. 

]STo  fly-boats  appearing,  Raleigh  resolved  "  to  shake 
hands  with  the  St.  Philip."  He  threw  a  line  aboard 
of  her  preparing  to  board.  The  courage  of  the  Span- 
iards, which  had  sustained  them  in  a  distant  cannonade, 
failed  as  they  saw  the  terrible  foe  about  to  draw  near. 
They  slipped  their  anchor  and  ran  their  ship  aground. 
Then  an  infatuation  of  terror  seems  to  have  seized  them. 
They  fled  from  their  ships  as  the  English  attempted  to 
enter  them,  falling  from  the  port-holes  into  the  water, 
says  Raleigh,  "  like  coals  from  a  sack." 

The  St.  Philip  and  the  St.  Thomas  now  took  fire.  The 
spectacle  was  lamentable  and  terrible,  even  to  the  in- 
vaders. Of  the  Spaniards,  many  drowned  themselves  in 
despair;  others,  scorched  by  the  flames,  were  struggling 
in  the  water.  Some  hung  by  rope  ends,  under  water  to 
the  lips.  Others  badly  wounded  were  seen  struggling 
in  the  ooze.  So  dreadful  was  the  scene,  so  fierce  the 
blaze  of  the  vast  ships,  and  so  terrible  the  firing  of  the 
great  ordnance,  as  the  flames  reached  and  discharged 


114:  DESTRUCTION   OF   THEIR   FLEET. 

them,  "  that,  if  any  man  desires  to  see  hell  itself,"  adds 
Raleigh,  "  it  was  there  most  finely  figured." 

Eight  English  ships  had  thus  defeated,  taken,  and 
destroyed  more  than  fifty  Spanish,  defended  by  power- 
ful batteries,  and  filled  with  soldiers. 

The  enemy's  fleet  being  destroyed,  Essex  landing  his 
troops,  drove  back  a  detachment  from  the  garrison  who 
had  sallied  from  the  town,  and  having  pursued  them  to 
the  walls,  carried  it  by  assault.  Raleigh  who  had  been 
badly  wounded  in  the  leg  by  a  splinter  during  his  attack 
upon  the  fleet,  yet  insisted  upon  the  witnessing  the  sack 
of  Cadiz.  Borne  upon  the  shoulders  of  his  men,  he 
passed  through  the  tumultuous  crowd  of  plunderers, 
who  showed,  he  says,  "  but  little  respect  of  persons,"  to 
return  at  night  to  his  ship  fainting  with  wounds  and 
weariness,  without  having  secured  a  single  valuable 
prize.  The  fleet  was  now  almost  a  solitude,  its  crews 
having  hastened  away  to  share  in  the  plunder  of  the 
town.  At  dawn  Raleigh  sent  to  Eflingham  for  orders 
to  pursue  and  take  possession  of  the  Indian  fleet,  which 
lay  in  the  Puerto  Reale,  the  value  of  which  was  many 
millions ;  but  such  was  the  confusion  that  he  could  get 
no  answer. 

The  vast  prize  was  lost  to  the  conquerors.  At  noon 
of  that  fatal  day,  the  Spaniards  had  proposed  to  Effing- 
ham  to  ransom  their  fleet  for  two  million  of  reals.  But 
the  next  morning  the  Duke  of  Medina  Sidonia,  ordered 
it  to  be  set  on  fire.  And  galleons,  carracks,  and  argo- 
sies, with  all  their  priceless  cargoes,  were  ravished  from 


KALEIGH'S  DISAPPOINTMENT.  115 

the  English  by  the  flames.  Two  only,  the  St.  Andrew 
and  the  St.  Matthew,  "the  two  apostles,"  as  Raleigh 
irreverently  describes  them,  were  brought  to  Eng- 
land. 

Essex,  when  the  attack  was  over,  treated  his  prisoners 
with  humanity  and  generosity.  The  town  proved  rich 
in  money,  plate,  and  merchandise.  The  spoil  of  the 
English  was  large.  Many  prisoners  ransomed  themselves 
for  ten  or  twenty  thousand  ducats. 

"  For  myself,"  continues  Raleigh,  "  I  have  gotten  a 
lame  leg  and  a  deformed.  I  have  not  wanted  good 
words,  but  I  have  possessed  nothing  but  poverty  and 
pain.  If  God  had  spared  me  that  blow  I  had  possessed 
myself  of  some  house."  In  the  buccaneer  spirit  of  the 
day  he  had  longed  to  be  at  the  sack,  but  his  wound  had 
prevented  him  from  profiting  by  it.  He  sighed  to  grow 
rich  like  Olive  or  Hastings. 

Success  overturned  the  little  natural  prudence  of  Es- 
sex. He  wished  to  be  left  at  Cadiz  with  a  garrison  of 
four  hundred  men  to  hold  it  against  the  whole  power  of 
Philip.  When  this  was  rejected  he  pressed  the  admiral 
to  crown  their  success  by  intercepting  the  galleons  at 
the  Azores,  and  by  assaulting  other  ports  of  Spain.  He 
returned  to  England  full  of  complaints  of  his  fellow 
commanders  who  had  not  yielded  to  his  advice.  He 
even  claimed  the  whole  glory  of  the  naval  engagement, 
and  the  taking  of  Cadiz  to  himself.  He  published  his 
censures  upon  his  associates,  particularly  mentioning  Sir 
Walter  Raleigh  as  one  who  had  been  unfavorable  to  his 


116  CECIL. 

plans.  Another  mortification  awaited  Essex  upon  his 
return.  He  found  Cecil  appointed  secretary. 

Elizabeth  was  delighted  at  the  success  of  the  expedi- 
tion. She  had  wounded  her  enemy  in  a  vital  part.  She 
praised  and  rewarded  all  the  commanders. 

Cecil,  who  professed  friendship  for  Raleigh,  was  now 
reconciled  by  him  to  Essex.  "With  his  deep  policy  he 
was  unwilling  to  have  an  open  foe  in  either.  He  felt 
that  he  could  not  remain  with  safety  closely  connected 
with  Ealeigh  while  Essex  was  his  enemy.  Magnani- 
mous and  open-hearted,  the  earl  was  forgiving.  He 
had  been  easily  won  to  forget  his  displeasure  against 
Ealeigh  ;  he  was  easily  reconciled  towards  Cecil.  The 
three  rivals  met  together  as  friends.  Cecil  went  in  the 
same  coach  with  the  earl  to  his  house,  where  Ealeigh 
came  soon  after,  and  they  dined  together.  After  dinner 
they  spent  three  hours  in  conversation.  Essex  was  .the 
dupe  of  his  astute  rivals.  Unacquainted  with  deception 
himself,  he  could  not  suspect  that  they  were  plotting 
against  him  while  they  courted  him. 

In  June,  1597,  Ealeigh  was  completely  reconciled  to 
the  queen.  Cecil,  in  the  absence  of  Essex,  who  con- 
nived rather  than  consented  to  it,  was  to  bring  Ealeigh 
to  an  interview  with  Elizabeth.  She  received  him  with 
something  of  the  old  favor.  He  once  more  was  allowed 
to  resume  his  captaincy  of  the  Guards  from  which  he 
had  been  long  suspended.  In  the  evening  he  rode  forth 
with  the  queen  and  had  a  private  conference  with  her. 
To  the  world  he  seemed  at  length  about  to  resume  his 


ANOTHER  EXPEDITION   AGAINST   SPAIN.  117 

old  ascendency.  The  happy  scheme  of  Cecil  for  pro- 
ducing a  reconciliation  with  Essex  ensured  his  success. 
The  earl  and  Raleigh  were  now  often  together.  They 
were  much  at  Cecil's  house  in  private.  But  this  inti- 
macy could  not  long  endure. 

The  queen  heard  that  Philip  was  preparing  an  expe- 
dition against  Ireland  in  Groine  and  Ferrol.  She  had 
now  learned  that  the  wisest  plan  for  destroying  Spanish 
armadas  was  the  one  suggested  by  Raleigh,  of  attacking 
them  in  their  own  harbors.  She  resolved  therefore  to 
anticipate  Philip. 

Another  stately  fleet  sailed  forth  from  England,  com- 
missioned to  ravage  the  coasts  of  Spain  and  to  intercept 
the  plate  fleet.  Essex  was  made  command er-in-chief 
of  both  sea  and  land  forces,  and  led  one  squadron  ;  How- 
ard as  vice-admiral,  another ;  Raleigh  commanded  a 
third.  Lord  Mountjoy.  Yere,  the  earls  of  Rutland  and 
Southampton,  Carew,  Blount,  and  many  more  lords  and 
gentlemen  attended  the  expedition.  They  led  one  hun- 
dred and  twenty  ships  with  seven  thousand  soldiers. 

At  "Wey mouth,  Essex  called  before  him  Yere  and 
Raleigh,  to  have  them  reconciled.  They  readily 
professed  their  willingness.  The  fleet  sailed,  but  was 
driven  back  by  a  storm.  During  the  delay,  Raleigh 
and  Essex  made  a  journey  together  to  London  to 
attend  court.  It  was  now  determined  to  dismiss  the  land 
forces  and  to  confine  the  object  of  the  expedition  to 
the  capture  of  the  treasure  fleet. 

Essex  was    surrounded  by  pretended  friends  who 


118  THE   ATTACK   ON   FAYAL. 

seized  every  occasion  to  produce  dissensions  between 
him  and  Raleigh.  The  latter  had  been  detained  behind 
the  rest  of  the  fleet  by  the  breaking  of  his  main-yard. 
He  then  came  to  Lisbon,  where  finding  some  ships  and 
tenders  he  conveyed  them  to  the  Azores.  This  was 
construed  by  the  followers  of  Essex  into  a  serious  offence, 
as  if  he  wished  to  act  independently  of  his  commander. 
Raleigh,  however,  upon  rejoining  the  fleet,  soon  con- 
vinced the  earl  of  their  malice.  Essex,  who  had  been 
enraged  at  his  supposed  desertion,  was  easily  pacified. 
He  told  Raleigh  he  never  had  believed  he  had  deserted 
him,  and  that  he  "  was  sorry  for  a  letter  he  had  written 
to  England  against  his  conduct."  It  was  observed  by 
Gorges  that  Essex  in  great  matters  always  consulted  Ra- 
leigh in  preference  to  many  others  who  thought  them- 
selves first  in  his  regard. 

It  was  determined  in  a  council  of  war  that  Essex  and 
Raleigh  should  together  attack  Fayal,  while  to  the  other 
commanders  were  assigned  other  islands.  Unhappily, 
in  reaching  their  destination,  Raleigh  was  separated 
from  his  general.  He  arrived  at  Fayal,  but  saw  no 
traces  of  Essex. 

He  was  now  in  doubt  what  plan  to  pursue.  If  he 
should  attack  the  island  before  Essex  had  arrived,  he 
must  expect  to  excite  the  jealous  anger  of  his  rival. 
While  if  he  delayed  the  attack,  the  Spaniards,  alarmed 
by  his  approach,  would  so  improve  its  defences  as  to 
make  its  capture  difficult  if  not  impossible.  Two  days 
he  hesitated,  doubtful  whether  to  serve  his  queen  at  the 


ESSEX   WISHES   TO   PUNISH   EALEIGH   WITH   DEATH.    119 

risk  of  displeasing  her  favorite.  Meanwhile  he  saw  the 
Spaniards  busily  increasing  their  fortifications.  A  coun- 
cil of  his  officers  was  called.  The  friends  of  Essex 
urged  a  delay.  The  chief  captains  were  for  attacking 
at  once.  Raleigh,  however,  yielded  to  the  former,  and 
agreed  to  wait  a  day  longer.  He  then  attacked  the 
island  with  great  bravery  and  quickly  subdued  it. 

When  Essex  soon  after  arrived  at  Fayal,  he  was  trans- 
ported with  rage  to  find  the  glory  of  the  attempt 
wholly  ravished  from  him  by  his  rival.  His  friends  in- 
flamed his  displeasure.  They  urged  him  to  try  Raleigh 
by  court-martial,  and  put  him  to  death.  They  even 
insinuated  that  he  now  had  a  good  opportunity  for 
removing  for  ever  from  his  path  a  formidable  foe.  In 
his  impetuosity  he  would  have  yielded  to  their  violent 
counsels.  He  cashiered  three  captains  who  had  shared 
in  the  attempt,  and  would  have  inflicted  some  hasty 
punishment  upon  Raleigh,  had  not  Lord  Thomas  How- 
ard interfered  and  reconciled  them.  He  persuaded  Ra- 
leigh to  make  submissions,  and  Essex  to  receive  his 
apologies. 

The  earl  gained  no  reputation  by  this  expedition.  By 
his  want  of  seamanship  he  lost  the  galleons  for  which 
he  lay  in  wait  and  of  which  he  came  in  sight,  and  he 
returned  to  England  mortified  and  enraged.  He  refused 
even  to  appear  at  court.  His  displeasure  was  increased 
by  the  conduct  of  Elizabeth.  Cecil  had  been  made 
chancellor  of  the  Duchy  of  Lancaster,  and  Lord  Efling- 
hain  Earl  of  Nottingham;  for  his  success  at  Cadiz.  This 


120  THEY   AKE   RECONCILED. 

appointment  gave  Nottingham  a  higher  position  than 
Essex,  for  an  exploit  the  merit  of  which  Essex  claimed 
for  himself.  He  was  so  enraged  that  he  offered  to  main- 
tain by  the  sword  his  plea  against  Nottingham  or  any 
of  his  kindred. 

Elizabeth  employed  Kaleigh  to  reconcile  the  two 
earls.  To  soothe  the  wounded  vanity  of  Essex  she  made 
him  Lord  Marshal  of  England,  an  office  that  had  long 
been  in  abeyance,  but  which  gave  him.  the  precedence 
over  Nottingham. 

The  world  was  surprised  at  the  close  intimacy  which 
now  grew  up  between  Essex  and  his  rivals,  Cecil  and 
Kaleigh.  None,  it  was  said,  but  they  could  move  him 
as  they  pleased.  France  was  preparing  to  make  peace 
with  Spain.  Cecil  was  one  of  the  ambassadors  sent  by 
Elizabeth  to  remonstrate  against  this  design.  Before  he 
departed  his  friends  entertained  him  with  a  succession 
of  fetes.  Raleigh,  Lord  Compton,  Cobham  and  South- 
well gave  in  turn  banquets,  plays  and  music.  Howard 
and  Kaleigh  attended  him  to  Dover. 

The  rumor  of  a  new  Spanish  invasion  alarmed  Eliza- 
beth. It  proved  only  a  passing  fleet  bearing  aid  to  their 
armies  in  the  Netherlands.  Yet  Essex  was  dispatched 
to  the  defence  of  the  Kentish  coast.  Raleigh  to  Corn- 
wall. Kaleigh  was  now  talked  of  for  Lord  Deputy  of 
Ireland,  but  is  said  to  have  declined  the  unpromising 
post.  In  1598  died  Lord  Buiieigh,  the  father  of  Cecil, 
the  enemy  of  Essex,  leaving  apparently  an  undisputed 
supremacy  to  the  earl. 


IMPENDENCE   OF   ESSEX.  121 

But  Essex  had  already  somewhat  shaken  his  authority 
by  the  imprudence  of  his  behavior.  "With  his  rapid 
growth  in  influence  he  had  lost  that  veneration  for 
Elizabeth  which  marked  his  early  bearing  towards  her, 
and  which  she  demanded  from  all  her  courtiers.  Time 
had  increased  his  natural  impetuosity  and  weakened 
his  prudence.  Prosperity  had  not  improved  his  dispo- 
sition. He  had  grown  jealous,  sensitive,  hasty.  One 
day  in  a  dispute  with  the  queen,  with  regard  to  some 
appointment,  he  grew  so  angry  as  to  turn  his  back  upon 
her  in  a  contemptuous  manner.-  The  queen,  equally 
hasty,  repaid  his  contempt  by  a  box  upon  his  ear.  The 
earl,  enraged  beyond  restraint,  placed  his  hand  upon 
his  sword,  swearing  that  he  would  not  bear  such  usage 
even  from  Henry  VIII.  himself.  He  withdrew  from 
the  court,  and,  far  from  concealing  this  affront,  published 
it  abroad  by  a  letter  which  he  wrote  in  vindication  of 
his  conduct,  and  of  which  copies  were  handed  about 
among  his  friends.  Elizabeth  afterwards  restored  him 
to  favor,  but  it  was  plain  that  so  ardent  a  temperament 
as  that  of  Essex  must  lead  him  ere  long  to  equally 
dangerous  outbreaks. 

In  1599,  Essex,  in  a  moment  of  passion,  ambition  and 
self-confidence,  obtained  from  the  queen  the  appoint- 
ment of  Lord  Lieutenant  of  Ireland.  The  Irish  had  long 
been  a  source  of  expense  and  uneasiness  to  Elizabeth. 
She  relied  upon  the  earl's  known  valor  and  genius  to 
subdue  them  at  a  blow.  She  supplied  him  with  near 
twenty  thousand  men,  and  expected  that  his  complete 

6 


122  HIS   MISCONDUCT   IN    IRELAND. 

success  would  relieve  her  from  all  future  difficulties  on 
that  island. 

It  is  said  that  his  enemies  advocated  this  appointment, 
and  united  in  raising  the  expectations  of  the  queen, 
which  they  hoped  would  be  disappointed.  Raleigh, 
Cecil,  Nottingham  and  Gobham  rejoiced  to  see  their 
rival  removed  from  court,  and  exposed  to  the  dangers 
of  a  campaign  in  a  country  where  few  laurels  were 
likely  to  be  obtained,  even  should  he  escape  any  great 
disaster. 

The  fate  of  the  expedition  equalled  their  highest  hopes. 
Essex,  easily  deceived  and  incapable  of  forming  a  well- 
concerted  plan,  was  baffled  by  the  Irish,  failed  in  all  his 
enterprises,  saw  his  great  army  melt  away  by  sickness, 
desertion  and  death,  tind  was  finally  driven  to  negotiate 
a  disgraceful  peace. 

Elizabeth  heard  of  the  destruction  of  her  army,  the 
greatest  she  had  ever  equipped,  with  undisguised  anger. 
Essex  increased  this  feeling  by  writing  imprudent  letters 
to  herself  and  the  council,  complaining  of  the  calumnies 
which  had  been  received  against  him.  The  queen  sent 
him  orders  to  remain  in  Ireland,  but  Essex,  fearing  the 
effect  of  the  influence  of  his  enemies  should  he  remain 
any  longer  absent,  resolved  to  fly  to  the  queen.  He 
passed  over  the  Channel,  hastened  to  London,  and  entered 
the  palace.  Covered  with  the  marks  of  his  hasty  travel 
he  came  to  the  bed-chamber  of  the  queen,  who  had  just 
risen,  cast  himself  upon  his  knees,  kissed  her  hand  and 
had  some  conversation  with  her.  So  that  when  he  left 


HE   EETUENS.  123 

her  presence  lie  was  so  reassured  of  her  favor  as  to  thank 
God  that  though  he  had  suffered  many  troubles  and 
storms  abroad  he  found  a  sweet  calm  at  home. 

He  was  surprised  to  find  in  the  afternoon  that  he  was 
ordered  into  close  custody,  shut  out  from  all  intercourse 
with  his  friends,  and  ordered  to  be  examined  by  the 
council.  Mortification  and  regret  made  him  fall  sick, 
and  his  life  was  even  in  danger.  The  queen,  who 
retained  for  him  all  her  affection,  was  alarmed.  She 
showed  her  concern  by  her  tears.  She  sent  him  some 
broth,  with  a  message  that  if  such  a  step  were  proper 
she  would  visit  him  in  person. 

About  the  same  time  Raleigh,  it  is  said,  pretended 
sickness  and  was  cured  by  a  similar  message  from  his 
mistress. 

The  enemies  of  Essex  used  every  artifice  to  excite  the 
displeasure  of  the  queen.  His  conduct  in  Ireland  had 
been  exceedingly  imprudent.  They  insinuated  that  his 
sickness  had  been  feigned.  They  awoke  in  her  mind 
suspicions  of  which  she  had  no  thought  herself.  She 
resolved  to  have  him  tried  by  the  Star  Chamber,  but 
was  content  with  having  him  examined  by  the  Privy 
Council.  Here  he  was  assailed  by  Coke,  who  opened 
the  case  against  him  with  his  usual  unsparing  violence. 
Among  the  counsel  employed  against  the  fallen  earl 
appeared  Bacon,  the  man  whom  he  had  so  devotedly 
served,  but  who,  with  the  noblest  impulses,  often 
descended  to  the  basest  artifices  of  the  courtier.  To 
please  the  queen  he  sacrificed  his  friend.  Essex  was,  by 


KALEIGH   DISSATISFIED. 


sentence  of  the  counsel,  suspended  from  his  various  high 
offices  and  confined  a  prisoner  in  his  own  house. 

Elizabeth  candidly  told  the  earl  that  in  all  these  pun- 
ishments she  never  meant  to  withdraw  from  him  her 
favor,  but  only  to  correct  that  impetuous  temper  which 
had  proved  so  injurious  to  her  interest  as  well  as  to  his 
own.  In  this  she  was  sincere.  She  loved  Essex  more 
than  any  other  man.  To  Raleigh  she  was  never  liberal  of 
her  favors.  The  disgrace  of  his  rival  did  not  add  to  his 
good  fortune.  He  had  long  hoped  to  be  made  a  privy 
counsellor,  but  was  constantly  disappointed  ;  some  secret 
obstacle  seemed  to  check  his  advance.  The  wisest  com- 
mander, the  bravest  officer  of  his  time,  he  had  as  yet 
held  only  inferior  appointments.  He  sought  to  be  made 
one  of  the  commissioners  of  the  treaty  at  Boulogne  and 
was  refused.  Ill  pleased  to  find  nothing  done  for  him, 
he  retired  to  his  estate  of  Sherbroke,  being  on  his  journey 
entertained  by  the  Earl  of  Northumberland,  at  the  Lion 
House.  In  May  he  returned  to  court  to  solicit  the  vice- 
chamberlainship.  Soon  after  he  went  over  into  Flanders 
upon  some  secret  mission.  On  his  return  he  was  made 
Governor  of  Jersey,  with  the  grant  of  the  Manor  of  St. 
Germains,  on  that  island. 

In  the  meantime  the  impetuous  temper  of  Essex  had 
produced  his  ruin.  The  severity  of  the  queen  made  him 
moody  and  desperate.  He  believed  that  no  man  was 
ever  so  wronged  as  himself.  He  thought  the  calumnies 
of  his  enemies  had  led  Elizabeth  to  treat  him  with  gross 
injustice.  Dark  plans  of  revenge  against  them  and  of  a 


ESSEX   PLOTS   AGAINST   THE   QTJEEN.  125 

conspiracy  against  her  power  filled  his  mind.  His  popu- 
larity was  remarkable.  Even  in  his  disgrace  the  people 
still  looked  upon  him  with  affectionate  compassion. 
They  reviled  his  enemies  as  knaves  and  cowards.  They 
published  libels  against  them.  And  Essex  believed  that 
he  could  rely  upon  their  aid  in  any  attempt  to  drive 
Cecil  and  Raleigh  from  power. 

He  joined  himself  to  the  sect  of  Puritans.  He  had 
daily  prayers  and  exercises  at  Essex  House.  He  used 
every  measure  to  provoke  the  queen.  He  often  ridiculed 
her  appearance,  and  said  that  she  was  now  grown  an  old 
woman,  that  she  was  as  crooked  in  her  mind  as  in  her  body. 
His  house  was  filled  with  military  adventurers  whose  aid 
he  intended  to  use  in  his  future  schemes.  He  entered 
into  correspondence  with  King  James,  and  proposed 
to  him  a  scheme  for  forcing  Elizabeth  to  acknowledge 
the  king  of  the  Scots  her  heir.  At  Drury  House  met  a 
secret  council  of  his  friends  who  gravely  debated  a 
design  which  he  proposed  to  them  for  seizing  the  Tower 
and  forcing  the  palace  gates :  for  obliging  the  queen  to 
dismiss  his  enemies  from  his  counsels:  to  assemble  a 
parliament  and  settle  a  new  plan  of  government. 
Among  the  malcontents  were  the  Earl  of  Southampton, 
Sir  Fernando  Gorges,  Sir  Christopher  Blount  and  many 
other  men  of  rank  and  fame.  So  strong  was  the  influ- 
ence of  Essex  over  the  hearts  of  his  friends. 

His  enemies  were  now  keenly  watching  his  proceed- 
ings. They  had  already  aroused  the  suspicion  of  the 
queen.  She  sent  a  son  of  the  treasurer  Sackville,  to 


126  DISCOVERY   OF  THE  PLOT. 

Essex  House  to  discover  his  designs.  Soon  after  Essex 
received  a  summons  to  attend  at  the  council,  and  at  the 
same  time  came  a  note  from  a  friend  warning  him  to 
provide  for  his  safety.  The  next  day  he  summoned  his 
friends  to  Essex  House.  There  came  the  earls  of 
Southampton,  Rutland,  Lords  Monteagle  and  Sandys 
with  three  hundred  gentlemen  of  rank  and  fortune. 

Meanwhile  Raleigh,  who  was  watching  the  motions 
of  his  rival,  sent  for  Sir  Fernando  Gorges  to  meet  him 
on  the  Thames.  Gorges  consulted  Essex  whether  he 
should  go.  Raleigh  was  looked  upon  with  deadly 
hatred  at  Essex  House.  It  was  chiefly  against  him 
that  those  preparations  were  made.  Blount  urged 
Gorges  to  seize  or  murder  Raleigh  at  the  meeting. 
Gorges  met  Raleigh,  who  told  him  that  a  warrant  had 
been  issued  for  his  arrest  and  urged  him  to  fly.  Gorges 
thanked  him,  but  answered  that  he  was  engaged  in 
another  matter,  and  that  there  were  two  thousand 
gentlemen  who  were  resolved  to  live  or  die  freemen. 
It  is  probable  that  this  was  not  all  that  was  said  and 
that  Gorges  gave  Raleigh  the  full  particulars  of  the 
plot.  They  parted,  the  one  to  Essex  House,  the  other 
to  the  queen. 

Then  Essex  burst  forth  from  Essex  House  upon  his 
mad  project  of  raising  the  city,  crying  out  that  Raleigh 
and  Cobham  had  plotted  against  his  life.  He  was 
seized,  imprisoned,  and  tried  for  treason.  At  the  trial 
again  appeared  Bacon,  not  ashamed  to  aid  in  the 
destruction  of  his  generous  friend.  The  earl  was  con- 


EALEIGH  RECOMMENDS  THE  EXECUTION  OF  ESSEX.      127 

demned  to  death  and  his  execution  awaited  only  the 
signature  of  the  queen. 

Cecil  appeared  to  have  relented,  and  would  have 
spared  him,  but  Raleigh  urged  him  to  be  firm.  "If 
you  spare  him,"  he  wrote,  "  I  read  your  destiny."  ~No 
mercy  could  he  show  to  that  noble  heart  which  had  so 
often  forgiven,  to  that  friend  with  whom  he  had  spent 
so  many  hours  in  private  conversation,  who  had 
shared  with  him  the  dangers  of  the  battle-field  and  the 
pleasures  of  society. 

Yet  Raleigh  had  the  excuse  that  the  struggle  between 
himself  and  Essex  had  become  one  of  life  and  death. 
He  knew  the  real  power  of  the  earl  over  Elizabeth.  If 
Essex  were  spared  he  would  rise  again  to  an  over- 
whelming influence.  If  he  triumphed  Raleigh,  and 
Cecil  must  die  upon  the  scaffold.  The  wrongs  which 
they  had  inflicted  were  too  deep  to  be  otherwise 
avenged.  He  wrote  to  Cecil :  "  His  malice  is  fixed ;  if 
you  relent  you  will  repent  too  late."  The  warrant  for 
the  execution,  which  the  tenderness  of  the  queen  had 
delayed,  was  at  length  signed  by  her — with  what  emo- 
tions ?  It  proved  her  own  death  warrant  as  well  as  his. 
The  earl  died  in  a  penitent  mood ;  all  his  violent 
passions  stilled  at  the  approach  of  the  Great  Power. 
It  is  said  that  he  even  desired  to  see  Raleigh  before  he 
died  to  assure  him  of  his  pardon. 

Raleigh  had  been  chiefly  instrumental  in  discovering 
the  conspiracy.  He  had  been  one  of  those  who 
besieged  Essex  House.  He  had  attended  in  his  station 


128          THE  LAST  DAYS  OF  THE  QUEEN. 

of  captain  of  the  Guards  at  the  trial.  He  now  came  to 
the  Tower  to  behold  a  death.  There  he  saw  the  fair 
head  drop  upon  the  scaffold  with  tears  of  remorse. 
Was  it  so  ?  Did  the  sight  of  the  inevitable  recall  him 
to  humanity  and  sympathy  ?  The  people  did  not  so 
think.  They  followed  with  curses  him  who  had  feasted 
his  revenge  with  malicious  joy  upon  the  lifeless  form  of 
the  general  favorite. 

The  last  days  of  the  great  queen  drew  near.  They 
were  full  of  repinings,  lamentings,  and  inconsolable 
grief.  Clouded  and  stormy  went  down  her  splendid 
day.  She  had  killed  the  truest-hearted  of  her  subjects. 
Around  were  none  but  cold  intriguers  and  heartless  plot- 
ters. Childless,  husbandless,  the  destroyer  of  a  sister 
queen,  yet  with  a  heart  pining  for  the  joys  of  filial  and 
fraternal  affection,  Elizabeth's  pride,  ambition,  and 
vanity,  could  now  no  longer  supply  a  child's,  a  mother's, 
a  sister's  place.  The  phantoms  fled.  She  fell  into 
a  misanthropic  melancholy.  She  starved  herself  to 
death. 

About  this  time  Raleigh  sold  his  estate  in  Ireland. 
Having  been  engaged  in  a  difficulty  with  Sir  Amias 
Preston,  which  ended  in  a  challenge,  he  settled  his 
Sherbroke  estate  upon  his  son  Walter  in  anticipation  of 
the  event.  They  were,  however  reconciled. 

With  the  death  of  his  mistress  his  fortunes  fell. 
James,  her  successor,  had  been  already  taught  to  look 
upon  him  with  dislike.  Raleigh  had  been  one  of  those 
who  advocated  the  policy  of  laying  certain  restrictions 


HEK   SUCCESSOR  TJNFKIENDLY  TO   KALEIGII.  129 

upon  the  new  king,  a  measure  that  had  excited  his 
highest  resentment.  Cecil,  too,  who  had  professed 
friendship  for  Sir  Walter  so  long  as  he  was  to  be  feared, 
had  for  some  years  been  engaged  in  a  correspondence 
with  James,  which  he  had  successfully  concealed  from 
the  queen.  In  this  correspondence  he  took  care  to 
represent  all  those  in  unfavorable  colors  who  were 
likely  to  become  dangerous  rivals  to  himself.  He  did 
not  spare  his  friend  Raleigh.  He  spoke  of  him  in  the 
way  most  likely  to  injure  him  with  the  king. 

The  martial  fame,  the  restless  adventurous  spirit  of 
Raleigh,  were  equally  feared  and  disliked  by  the  timid 
James.  He  hated  and  dreaded  a  soldier.  He  shrank 
from  a  bold  commanding  nature  with  envious  alarm. 
When  he  heard  that  Raleigh  was  about  to  marry  his 
son  Walter  to  his  ward,  a  descendant  of  the  Planta- 
genets,  with  a  fortune  of  three  thousand  pounds  a  year 
— a  match,  however,  which  never  took  place — he  sus- 
pected him  of  forming  a  design  upon  his  crown. 
When  Raleigh  came  to  him  with  a  project  for  invading 
Spain  with  two  thousand  men  at  his  own  expense,  he 
was  shocked  at  the  warlike  proposition. 

Yet  the  king  at  first  temporized.  He  thanked 
Raleigh  for  some  presents  which  he  had  received 
from  him  in  Scotland.  Though  he  removed  him  from 
the  post  of  captain  of  his  Guards,  and  took  away 
his  patent  of  sweet  wines,  in  the  place  of  the  latter 
he  allowed  him  a  pension  of  three  hundred  pounds, 
and  remitted  some  debts  which  he  owed  to  the  crown. 

6* 


130    EALEIGH  ACCUSED  OF  PLOTTING  AGAINST  THE  KING. 

Yet  James  had  hardly  been  three  months  upon  the 
throne  before  the  nation  was  astonished  by  the  trial  and 
condemnation  of  Raleigh  for  a  conspiracy.  Cecil,  who 
was  probably  the  inventor  of  the  plot,  wras  active  in 
convicting  his  friend.  In  his  letter  to  Parry  he  relates 
its  details  as  if  he  were  too  familiar  with  them.  "With 
Raleigh  were  implicated  Lords  Cobham  and  Grey. 
Cobhani,  weak,  dissolute,  and  desperate,  who  had 
always  been  greatly  influenced  by  Raleigh,  was  now 
induced  to  become  a  witness  against  him. 

The  plague  raging  in  London,  the  trial  was  appointed 
to  take  place  at  "Winchester.  Raleigh  was  taken  in 
custody  in  his  own  coach  to  that  city  and  imprisoned  in 
the  Castle  with  the  other  conspirators. 

He  was  brought  before  the  Earl  of  Suffolk  and  the 
two  chief  justices,  Popham  and  Anderson,  to  be  tried 
for  his  life.  He  was  charged  with  having  conspired 
with  Cobham  to  destroy  the  king,  and  to  advance  Lady 
Arabella  Stuart  to  the  throne.  The  indictment  stated 
that  Cobham  was  to  go  over  to  the  continent  to  procure 
the  assistance  of  the  King  of  Spain,  the  archduke,  and 
the  King  of  Savoy,  to  carry  out  the  plot ;  that  he  was 
to  bear  letters  from  Lady  Arabella  Stuart,  promising  to 
tolerate  popery  and  to  be  governed  by  those  powers  in 
her  choice  of  a  husband ;  that  Aremburg,  the  arch- 
duke's ambassador,  had  promised  six  millions  of  crowns 
in  aid  of  the  plan ;  and  that  Raleigh  had  published  a 
book  against  the  king's  title. 

Coke  carried  on  the   case  with  his  usual  offensive 


HIS    DEFENCE.  131 

coarseness.  Not  many  months  had  passed  since  he  had 
thus  treated  Essex.  He  now  seemed  to  exult  in  the 
humiliation  of  Raleigh.  Gobham  was  the  chief  evi- 
dence. He  pretended  that  he  had  been  seduced  by 
Raleigh's  arts  to  engage  in  the  plot ;  that  he  was  to 
have  gone  to  Spain  to  solicit  for  the  six  million  crowns, 
and  was  to  return  by  the  way  of  Jersey  where  he  would 
meet  and  consult  with  Raleigh.  Another  witness  testi- 
fied that  Cobham  and  Raleigh,  after  supping  together, 
had  gone  to  Aremberg,  the  archduke's  ambassador. 
Cobham  deposed  that  he  had  a  book  from  Raleigh 
written  against  the  king's  title.  He  added  that  Raleigh 
was  to  receive  a  bribe  of  fifteen  hundred  pounds  a  year 
from  Spain  for  giving  information ;  and  produced  a 
letter  written  to  him  by  Raleigh  after  their  arrest, 
urging  him  to  retract  his  evidence.  With  some  slight 
hearsay  testimony,  this  was  all  the  proof  against 
Raleigh. 

He  defended  himself  with  great  courage  and  skill. 
His  reply  was  clear  and  perfect.  He  denied  all  know- 
ledge of  the  plot  with  Cobham  and  Aremburg.  He 
declared  he  had  never  even  heard  the  name  of  the 
Lady  Arabella  Stuart.  He  said  that  he  who  had  writ- 
ten a  book  against  peace  with  Spain,  would  not  be  likely 
to  advocate  a  traitorous  peace  with  that  power.  He 
urged  that  in  cases  of  treason  two  witnesses  were 
required  by  law,  but  that  against  him  appeared  but  one, 
and  that  one  by  his  own  confession  a  traitor.  He  said 
the  book  spoken  of  came  from  the  study  of  the  late 


132  ITS    COMPLETENESS. 

lord  treasurer,  he  had  never  read  nor  commended  it  to 
any  man.  He  urged  that  it  was  not  likely  that  he,  who 
had  spent  forty  thousand  pounds  against  the  Spaniards, 
would  now  accept  a  pension  from  them.  And  lastly, 
as  a  conclusive  proof,  he  produced  a  letter  from  Lord 
Cobham,  written  in  view  of  approaching  death,  as  fol- 
lows :  "  Seeing  myself  so  near  my  end,  for  the  discharge 
of  my  conscience  and  freeing  myself  from  your  blood, 
which  else  will  cry  for  vengeance  against  me,  I  protest 
upon  my  salvation,  that  I  have  never  practised  with 
Spain  by  your  procurement.  God  so  comfort  me  in  this 
my  affliction,  as  you  are  a  true  subject  for  anything  I 
know — I  know  nothing  against  you." 

Then  Lord  High  Admiral  Nottingham  rose  up  and  by 
his  side  the  Lady  Arabella  Stuart.  The  lady  protested 
that  she  never  dealt  in  these  things ;  that  she  had  indeed 
received  a  letter  from  Cobham,  which  she  laughed  over 
and  then  sent  it  to  the  king. 

"No  defence  could  be  more  complete.  The  chief  wit- 
ness for  the  prosecution  had  confessed  himself  perjured, 
and  had  called  God  to  witness  that  the  accused  was 
guiltless.  All  circumstances  'combined  to  render  the 
guilt  of  Raleigh  impossible.  His  whole  life  had  been 
actuated  by  a  single  impulse,  a  hatred  of  Spain  and 
popery.  He  had  been  the  bravest  and  most  untiring 
of  that  band  of  heroes,  who  had  crushed  for  ever  Spanish 
supremacy.  His  patriotic  ardor  had  never  wearied. 
For  England  he  had  fought,  labored,  and  devised  great 
plans  of  colonization  which  ages  only  could  develop. 


COKE'S  COARSE  ABUSE  OF  THE  PRISONER.         133 

Everywhere  lie  was  esteemed  the  bravest  commander, 
the  wisest  counsellor  of  England.  And  now,  as  he  stood 
in  the  high  court  of  his  country,  to  be  tried  for  his  life 
upon  an  improbable  accusation,  he  might  reasonably 
hope  for  justice  if  not  for  favor. 

Coke,  the  great  master  of  English  law,  was  attorney- 
general.  His  character  was  singular.  He  was  bitter, 
mean,  malignant.  He  rejoiced  in  crushing  with  sharp 
invective  fallen  greatness.  No  pettifogger  was  ever 
more  addicted  to  coarse  language,  or  more  unscrupulous 
in  miscoloring  facts.  He  assailed  the  accused  with  the 
bitterness  of  a  Jeffries.  He  could  utter  falsehoods  at 
the  bar,  which  he  would  have  blushed  to  countenance 
beyond  it.  He  made  up  his  weak  cases  by  a  storm  of 
invective  and  reproach.  Nor  can  anything  exceed  the 
baseness  of  his  conduct  towards  both  Raleigh  and 
Essex. 

Yet  Coke  was  an  eminent  lawyer,  cool,  ready,  and 
resolute.  From  his  overflowing  store  of  well-arranged 
knowledge,  has  flowed  a  commentary  abounding  in  just 
deductions  and  able  reasoning,  a  work  which  has  been 
the  delight  of  all  succeeding  lawyers,  upon  which  Black- 
stone  and  Mansfield,  Kent  and  Story,  have  bestowed 
their  highest  praise.  In  politics  Coke  was  a  liberal  at  a 
time  when  liberality  was  likely  to  be  construed  as  trea- 
son. The  bitter,  sardonic  lawyer,  defended  obstinately 
the  privileges  of  the  commons  against  royal  encroach- 
ment. 

Coke,  upon  the  conclusion  of  Raleigh's  defence,  rose 


134  EALEIGH   AND   COKE. 

to  reply.  He  had  nothing  but  reproach  and  ill-language 
to  conceal  the  weakness  of  his  case.  He  told  Raleigh 
he  was  the  most  notorious  traitor  alive  :  that  he  would 
not  only  have  taken  off  the  king,  but  destroyed  religion : 
that  he  was  a  monster,  a  viper :  that  he  had  an  Eng- 
lish face  but  a  Spanish  heart :  that  he  had  never  known 
a  clearer  case  of  treason :  that  he  was  the  most  vile 
and  execrable  traitor  that  ever  lived. 

Raleigh  could  not  well  bear  this  treatment.  "You 
speak,"  said  he  to  Coke,  "  indiscreetly  as  well  as  bar- 
barously." 

Coke.    I  want  words  to  express  thy  viperous  treason. 

Raleigh.  I  think  you  want  words  indeed ;  for  you 
have  spoken  one  thing  half  a  dozen  times. 

Coke.  Thou  art  an  odious  fellow.  Thy  name  is  hate- 
ful to  all  England  for  thy  pride. 

Raleigh.  It  will  go  near  to  prove  a  measure  cast 
between  you  and  me,  Mr.  Attorney. 

Then  Coke  produced  a  letter  which  he  said  had  been 
conveyed  by  Raleigh  to  Cobham  to  induce  him  to 
retract  his  confession. 

Raleigh  allowed  that  he  had  sent  a  poor  fellow  with 
a  letter  to  throw  into  Cobham's  window,  containing 
these  few  words.  "  You  know  you  have  undone  me ; 
now  write  three  lines  to  justify  me." 

The  chief  justice  then  asked  what  he  had  to  say  with 
regard  to  the  bribe  of  fifteen  hundred  pounds  from 
Spain.  And  Raleigh  with  calm  disdain  answered, 
that  "  Cobham  was  a  base,  dishonest,  poor  soul,"  The 


THE   VERDICT.  135 

chief  justice  retorted,  "  I  perceive  that  you  are  not  so 
clear  a  man  as  you  have  pretended." 

It  was  plain  that  justice  was  not  to  be  done  in  that 
court.  The  chief  justice  charged  strongly  against  the 
prisoner.  The  jury  in  fifteen  minutes  returned  with  a 
verdict  of  Guilty  of  High  Treason. 

This  verdict  surprised  all  men.  Even  the  jury,  it  is 
reported,  touched  with  a  sense  of  the  value  of  that  life 
which  they  had  sacrificed,  demanded  pardon  for  Sir 
Walter  on  their  knees.  Even  Coke,  who  had  retired 
from  court  into  the  garden  for  fresh  air,  on  being  told 
that  the  jury  had  convicted  the  prisoner  of  treason, 
exclaimed,  "  Thou  art  mistaken.  I  myself  only  accused 
him  of  misprision  of  treason." 

Coke's  coarse  abuse  of  Raleigh  is  said  to  have  dis- 
gusted his  contemporaries.  Shakspeare  is  thought  to 
have  satirized  him  in  the  character  of  Sir  Toby  Belch, 
in  the  Twelfth  Night.  Coke  had  exclaimed  in  his  fury 
against  the  prisoner,  "  Thou  viper,  for  I  thou  thee,  thou 
traitor."  Act  III.,  scene  4,  Sir  Toby  speaks,  "  Taunt 
him  with  the  license  of  ink ;  if  thou  thou'st  him  some 
thrice  it  shall  not  be  amiss." 

Sir  Walter  walked  erect  and  unconquerable  from  the 
mock  trial  to  his  prison.  He  remained  at  Winchester 
nearly  a  month  in  hourly  expectation  of  death.  During 
this  suspense  he  wrote  as  follows  to  his  wife : 

"  You  shall  now  receive,  my  dear  wife,  my  last  words  in  these  my  last 
lines.  My  love  I  send  you  that  you  may  remember  it  when  I  am  no 
more.  I  would  not  by  my  will  present  you  with  sorrow,  dear  Bess. 


136  HIS  LETTER  TO  HIS  WIFE. 

Seeing  that  it  is  not  the  will  of  God  that  ever  I  shall  see  you  more  in 
this  life,  bear  it  patiently  and  \vith  a  heart  like  thyself. 

"  First,  I  send  you  all  the  thanks  my  heart  can  conceive  or  my  words 
express,  for  your  many  travails  and  cares  taken  for  me,  which  though 
they  have  not  the  effect  as  you  wished,  yet  my  debt  to  you  is  not  the 
less.  But  pay  it  never  I  shall  in  this  world. 

"  Secondly,  I  beseech  you  for  the  love  you  bear  me  living,  do  not  hide 
yourself  many  days  after  my  death.  But,  by  your  travails,  seek  to  help 
your  miserable  fortunes  and  the  right  of  your  poor  child.  Thy  mourn- 
ing cannot  avail  me.  I  am  but  dust." 

He  then  relates  how  he  had  settled  his  property,  and 
continues : 

"  When  I  am  gone,  no  doubt  you  shall  be  sought  for  by  many,  for  the 
world  thinks  that  I  was  very  rich.  But  take  heed  of  the  pretences  of 
men  and  their  affections.  For  they  last  not  but  in  honest  and  worthy 
men  ;  and  no  greater  misery  can  befall  you  in  this  life  than  to  become  a 
prey  and  afterwards  be  despised.  Get  those  letters  if  it  be  possible, 
which  I  writ  to  the  lords  where  I  sued  for  my  life.  God  is  my  witness, 
it  was  for  you  and  yours  that  I  desired  life.  But  it  is  true  that  I  d'sdain 
myself  for  begging  it,  for  know  it,  dear  wife,  that  your  son  is  the  son  of 
a  true  man,  and  one  who  in  his  own  respect  despiseth  death  and  all  his 
misshapen  ugly  forms. 

"  The  everlasting,  powerful,  infinite,  and  omnipresent  God,  who  is  good- 
ness itself,  the  true  life  and  light,  keep  thee  and  thine,  have  mercy  upon 
me,  and  teach  me  to  forgive  my  persecutors  and  accusers,  and  send  us  to 
meet  in  his  glorious  kingdom. 

"  My  dear  wife,  farewell.  Bless  my  poor  boy,  pray  for  me,  and  let 
my  good  God  hold  you  both  in  his  arms.  Written  with  the  dying  hand 
of  sometime  thy  husband,  but  now,  alas  !  overthrown.  Yours  that  was, 
but  now  not  my  own. 

"  WALTER  RALEIGH." 

A  noble  farewell  to  life  and  its  loved  ones !  The 
voice  of  a  true  heart  sounding  cheerfully  amid  its  mourn- 


A   FAREWELL   TO   LIFE.  137 

fnl  circumstances.  Not  that  of  an  Atheist,  or  a  sensual- 
ist, but  of  a  bold  nature,  striving  by  its  own  strength 
and  God's  aid,  to  stand  erect  in  the  tempest  and  keep 
others  from  sinking.  Dying  himself,  he  would  keep  her 
alive.  He  would  not  have  her  mourn  him  long.  He 
could  die  with  honor,  with  no  vain  prayers  for  life.  His 
son  should  never  blush  for  him.  He  had  too  often  met 
the  ugly,  misshapen  thing  called  Death,  on  the  main,  in 
the  enemy's  stronghold,  amid  battle,  sickness,  storm  and 
wilderness,  to  meet  him  now  like  a  coward.  The  great 
idea  of  God  had  never,  as  was  reported,  been  banished 
from  his  active  mind.  It  now  tilled  all  its  height,  its 
depth.  Everlasting,  powerful,  infinite,  omnipresent,  it 
is  now  felt  to  be,  if  never  before.  It  comes  into  his 
mind  as  other  ideas  fade,  a  star  of  hope. 

Yet  here  is  no  passion.  It  is  the  farewell  of  a  nature 
that  never  loved  with  violence,  but  with  constancy : 
that  was  never  sufficiently  satisfied  with  the  world  to 
love  it  deeply,  or  to  part  from  it  with  fierce  regret.  He 
looked  on  the  past  without  much  longing,  on  the  future 
with  no  rapturous  expectation. 

Under  condemnation,  the  Bishop  of  Winchester  pre- 
pared him  for  death.  The  bishop  was  astonished  at  his 
composure,  and  found  him  a  good  Protestant. 

But  his  death  was  not  to  be  sudden.  It  was  a  long, 
weary,  lingering  process,  closing  with  a  barbarous  exe- 
cution. He  was  reprieved.  On  December  15, 1604,  he 
entered  the  Tower  a  prisoner,  to  spend  thirteen  years 
within  its  walls. 


138  HIS   IMPRISONMENT. 

His  confinement  was  not  strict.  Several  persons  were 
allowed  to  visit  him — his  wife,  son,  and  her  maid,  a  sur- 
geon, a  clergyman,  his  servants  and  others.  His  prison- 
door  looked  out  upon  a  garden  in  which  there  was  a 
small  henhouse  that  he  converted  into  a  still  for  chemical 
experiments.  He  was  allowed  to  take  air  and  exercise 
within  the  walls,  and  even  to  show  himself  to  the  people. 

Yet  with  all  alleviations  it  was  a  barbarous  punish- 
ment. It  would  have  been  less  painful  to  record  his 
sudden  execution,  than  to  trace  the  gradual  decline  of 
that  noble  form  and  intellect  in  the  monotony  of  a  cell. 
The  greatest  captain  of  England,  how  must  he  have 
pined  for  the  battle-field !  A  gallant  courtier,  how  could 
he  live  out  of  that  stately  society  of  which  he  had  been 
the  gracious  leader !  While  America  lay  yet  an  unknown 
wilderness,  how  must  he  have  longed  to  break  away 
from  his  chain  upon  some  daring  voyage  of  discovery 
and  conquest ! 

His  enemies,  never  idle,  fell  upon  his  estate.  They 
hoped  to  share  his  supposed  wealth  among  them.  The 
Sherbroke  estate  had  been  settled  on  his  son  "Walter. 
Chief  Justice  Popham,  after  malicious  scrutiny,  found 
a  flaw  in  the  'deed  of  settlement.  It  was  only  an  error 
of  a  clerk  in  engrossing,  yet  he  pronounced  it  invalid. 
Car,  Earl  of  Somerset,  the  first  of  the  worthless  favorites 
of  James,  a  poisoner,  an  adulterer,  a  heartless  coward, 
begged  this  estate  from  the  king.  He  presumed  to 
plunder  the  fallen  hero.  Raleigh  wrote  to  him  *a  letter 
which  might  have  moved  any  heart  but  that  of  the 


HIS   MEDICAL   PREPARATION.  139 

depraved  murderer.  He  prays  Car  not  to  be  the  iirst 
to  cut  him  down  utterly,  and  to  undergo  the  curse  of 
those  who  enter  the  fields  of  the  fatherless.  But  Car 
would  not  be  disappointed  of  his  prey.  Lady  Raleigh 
with  her  children  then  knelt  before  the  king,  but  with- 
out effect.  He  answered  to  all  their  prayers,  "  I  mun 
have  the  land.  I  mun  have  it  for  Car.'7 

Sherbroke  was  taken  and  eight  thousand  pounds  were 
given  to  Lady  Raleigh  in  compensation.  Its  value  was 
much  greater. 

In  his  prison  Raleigh  employed  himself  in  chemical 
and  medical  experiments.  He  prepared  a  cordial  which 
became  a  popular  medicine.  In  the  time  of  King  Charles, 
his  apothecary,  Le  Febre,  was  ordered  to  prepare  a 
quantity,  exactly  after  the  original  directions,  for  the 
king's  use. 

Queen  Anne  was  cured,  by  Raleigh's  medical  skill,  of 
a  dangerous  disease.  The  reward  he  desired  was  that 
Cobham  should  again  be  examined  whether  he  had 
accused  him  of  treason  under  his  own  hand.  The  king 
sent  a  deputation  of  lords,  at  the  queen's  request,  to 
Cobham,  who  acknowledged  to  them  that  his  letter 
accusing  Raleigh  had  been  written  under 'a  deception. 
The  commissioners  returned  answer  to  the  king,  that 
"Lord  Cobham  made  good  all  that  he  ever  writ  or  said ;" 
an  equivocation  that  marked  their  malice  and  treachery. 

One  friend  at  court  Raleigh  possessed :  the  intelligent, 
ambitious  young  prince,  Henry.  The  prince  could  un- 
derstand a  nature  like  that  of  Raleigh.  He  possessed 


140  PRINCE   HENEY   HIS   FEIEND. 

himself  the  germs  of  the  heroic.  Already  he  had  won 
the  love  of  the  nation,  which,  humiliated  under  the 
undignified  rule  of  his  father,  looked  with  hope  to  the 
opening  virtues  of  his  son.  The  prince  was  often  in 
company  or  in  correspondence  with  Raleigh,  cherishing 
him  as  a  lingering  relic  of  that  great  Elizabethan  era 
which  was  past,  and  wondering  "  his  father  could  keep 
such  a  bird  in  a  cage."  No  doubt  he  often  listened 
with  enthusiasm  to  Raleigh's  tales  of  his  battles  with 
the  Spaniards,  and  followed  him  in  fancy  over  the  im- 
mense ocean  in  pursuit  of  the  shadowy  El  Dorado. 

When  Car,  Earl  of  Somerset,  was  suing  for  the  Sher- 
broke  estate,  Prince  Henry,  indignant,  had  applied  for 
it  for  himself  in  order  to  preserve  it  for  his  friend.  It  is 
said  that  he  had  prevailed,  and  that  a  recompense  in 
money  was  to  have  been  given  to  Car  in  its  stead,  when 
the  prince  died,  not  without  dark  suspicions. 

To  Prince  Henry,  Raleigh  poured  out  those  wise 
speculations  which  employed  him  in  his  prison.  He 
wrote  for  him  a  treatise  on  ship-building,  and  his  obser- 
vations on  the  royal  navy  and  sea  service.  He  opposed 
the  marriage  of  the  prince  with  a  daughter  of  Savoy, 
and  spoke  freely  to  him  maxims  of  liberal  policy  that 
would  have  seemed  clear  treason  to  his  father.  With  a 
tinge  of  prophecy  running  through  his  clear  common 
sense,  he  thus  writes  to  the  prince.  He  is  speaking  of 
those  who  called  James  God's  vice-gerent  and  encou- 
rage his  policy  of  absolutism : 


LITERATURE   RALEIGH'S   CHIEF   SOLACE. 


"  Exert  yourself,  oh  generous  prince,  against  such  sycophants  in  the 
glorious  cause  of  liberty,  and  assume  an  ambition  worthy  of  you  to  secure 
your  fellow  citizens  from  slavery.  Preserve  to  your  future  subjects  the 
divine  right  of  being  free  agents.  The  soul  is  the  essence  of  the  man, 
and  you  cannot  have  the  true  management  against  his  inclination  ;  choose, 
therefore,  to  be  the  king  or  the  conqueror  of  your  people." 

Had  Henry  lived  this  advice  would  have  been  fol- 
lowed, His  country's  kings  would  never  have  aspired 
to  be  her  conquerors.  Raleigh's  clear  note  of  warning 
would  not  have  died,  but  have  changed  the  destiny  of 
England.  The  revolution,  her  purification,  need  not 
have  followed  so  soon  the  death  of  the  prophet.  So 
harsh  a  remedy  might  have  never  been  wanted. 

Literature  had  ever  been  Raleigh's  solace.  In  youth 
it  had  employed  and  inspired  the  many  idle  intervals 
of  camp  and  courtier  life.  It  now  became  more  than 
ever  useful.  Dark  as  was  his  exterior  world,  there 
remained  to  him  boundless  regions  of  inner  life,  lit  by 
many  pleasant  stars,  shining  with  unchanging  gladness, 
among  which  the  pole  star  of  future  fame  pointed  him 
to  his  goal.  His  nature  was  essentially  intellectual  and 
literary.  He  had  more  traits  of  the  great  author  than 
of  the  great  general  or  the  great  statesman.  But  he  had 
been  led  away  from  authorship  by  the  allurements  and 
the  emulation  of  court  life.  By  these  his  real  nature 
had  been  held  in  bondage.  From  these  his  captivity 
now  set  him  free. 

His  mental  activity  became  wonderful.  He  wrote, 
thought  or  studied  incessantly.  Besides  chemical  and 


142  HIS   VARIOUS    STUDIES. 

medical  experiments,  lie  composed  in  his  prison  the 
larger  part  of  those  numerous  treatises  found  in  Birch's 
and  other  collections.  His  mind  passed  discursively 
over  many  subjects.  Religious  distinctions,  English 
policy,  naval  affairs,  seamanship  and  discovery,  fell  suc- 
cessively under  his  keen  observation  and  were  illustrated 
by  an  experience  gained  in  the  forming  era  of  his  coun- 
try's history.  IsTo  man  of  the  time  thought  so  liberally 
as  he.  Even  to  Bacon,  far-sighted  in  philosophy,  kings 
were  still  "  mortal  gods  on  earth  ;"  palaces,  pageantries 
and  courts  were  a  nation's  glory.  Kaleigh  saw  through 
the  vain  delusion.  "With  him  the  future  was  a  reality. 
England  was  not  the  mere  narrow  realm  of  James, 
weighed  down  and  humiliated  by  a  half  idiot  king,  but 
the  centre  of  a  vast  system  of  colonization,  the  parent  of 
nations,  whose  daring  enterprise  should  develop  the 
resources  of  the  earth,  the  waves,  the  intellect,  and  whose 
free  opinions  should  hunt  down  absolutism  to  despair 
and  humiliation,  whether  embodied  in  the  gloomy  mag- 
nificence of  Philip  of  Spain,  or  whatever  form  the  anti- 
quated dogma  might  assume. 

All  his  designs  were  grand  and  imposing.  He  had 
longed  to  become  the  founder  of  states,  a  conqueror  like 
Cortes,  and  to  direct  the  policy  of  England  to  the  estab- 
lishment of  colonies  and  the  assumption  of  the  empire 
of  the  seas.  And  now,  as  he  turned  to  literature,  an 
idea  equally  elevated  fixed  his  attention.  He  resolved 
to  write  the  history  of  the  world. 

Circumstances  seemed  peculiarly  unfavorable  to  this 


THE  HISTORY   OF  THE   WOULD.  143 

design.  His  life  had  not  been  such  as  to  prepare  him 
for  the  untiling  attention  required  by  any  extended 
literary  undertaking.  An  adventurer,  a  knight  errant 
of  the  seas,  accustomed  to  stormy  excitements  and  to 
listless  calms,  trained  in  the  camp  and  on  the  unsteady 
deck,  it  seemed  little  likely  that  he  could  so  command 
his  restless  intellect  as  to  keep  it  constant,  with  unflag- 
ging interest,  to  one  grand  historical  theme.  Nor  could 
it  be  supposed  that  amid  his  romantic  and  desultory 
career  he  had  gained  even  the  foundation  of  the  know- 
ledge requisite  for  his  proposed  work.  His  acquaintance 
with  the  ancient  languages  could  be  but  faint;  his 
knowledge  of  the  ancient  authors  but  superficial.  If  he 
remembered  the  leading  facts  of  oriental  and  classical 
history  it  was  all  that  could  be  looked  for  from  a  military 
leader  in  constant  employment  by  land  and  sea. 

But  Ealeigh  had  been  a  diligent  student  in  all  periods 
of  his  life.  Few  days  had  passed  without  being  partly, 
and  often  in  a  great  measure,  devoted  to  active  study. 
Wherever  he  went,  on  land  or  sea,  his  books  were  his 
constant  companions. 

His  desultory  career,  too,  was  not  useless  to  the  his- 
torian. Acquainted  with  courts,  with  camps,  with 
foreign  manners,  he  came  to  his  great  undertaking  with 
advantages  which  merely  literary  men  do  not  possess. 
He  had  been  engaged  in  actual  warfare  and  could  de- 
scribe, with  vividly  clear  conceptions,  the  manceuvering 
of  hostile  armies.  He  had  learned  the  necessity  of 
describing  to  his  reader  the  peculiar  character  of  every 


144:  EFFECT  OF  HIS  IMPRISONMENT. 

new  land  into  which  the  progress  of  events  invited  him. 
His  knowledge  of  courts,  of  kings,  of  actual  warfare  and 
negotiation  was  an  advantage  that  few  historians  have 


Captivity,  too,  had  made  him  a  purely  literary  man. 
In  the  course  of  a  long  imprisonment  his  ardent  restless- 
ness was  stilled  and  his  attention  wholly  fixed  upon 
mental  progress.  His  friends  supplied  him  with  books. 
Sir  Kobert  Cotton,  the  possessor  of  the  best  library  in 
England,  seems  to  have  furnished  him  with  materials 
with  the  greatest  liberality,  and  his  mind,  with  some 
transient  intervals  of  discontent  when  it  once  more 
wandered  to  El  Dorado,  or  busied  itself  with  politics, 
must  gradually  have  become  engrossed  with  its  great 
design.  To  become  a  great  historian  he  now  labored 
with  the  same  ardor  and  resolution  that  had  marked  him 
in  battle  and  in  discovery.  He  had  chosen  a  noble 
subject,  the  progress  of  man  from  the  creation  to  his 
own  day,  and  as  he  felt  that  the  remainder  of  his  life 
must  probably  pass  away  in  prison,  he  wrote  with  the 
minute  accuracy  of  a  captive  seeking  to  lengthen  out  a 
task  that  beguiled  the  weariness  of  confinement  and  yet 
with  the  enthusiasm  of  an  ardent  follower  of  fame. 

He  entered  upon  the  task,  however,  with  sincere  self- 
distrust.  The  greatness  of  the  subject,  the  length  of  his 
proposed  work,  and  the  variety  of  faculties  and  know- 
ledge which  its  proper  execution  demanded,  filled  him 
with  alarm.  In  a  touching  preface  he  relates  his  dis- 
couragements. How  time  had  dulled  the  ardor  with 


PREFACE   TO    THE    HISTORY.  14:5 

which  he  was  wont  to  enter  upon  his  youthful  under- 
takings :  ho\t  brief  was  the  period  left  him  for  the  fulfill- 
ment of  his  design. 

"  How  unfit  and  unworthy  a  choice,"  he  writes,  "  I 
have  made  of  myself  to  undertake  a  work  of  this  kind, 
my  own  reason,  though  exceeding  weak,  hath  sufficiently 
resolved  me.  For  had  it  beene  begotten  then  with  my 
first  dawn,  when  the  light  of  common  knowledge  began 
to  open  itself  to  my  younger  years,  and  before  any 
wound  received  from  Fortune  or  Time,  I  might  well  have 
'doubted  that  darkness  and  death  would  have  covered  it 
and  me  long  before  the  performance.  For  beginning 
with  the  creation  I  have  proceeded  with  the  History  of 
the  "World,  and  lastly  prepared  (some  few  years  excepted) 
to  confine  my  discovery  within  this  our  Renowned  Isle 
of  Great  Britain.  I  confess  it  had  better  suited  my  dis- 
abilities, the  better  part  of  whose  times  are  worn  out  in 
travel,  to  set  tight  as  I  could  the  unjointed  and  scattered 
frame  of  our  English  affairs  than  of  Universal — the  day 
of  a  tempestuous  life  drawn  on  to  the  very  evening  ere 
I  begin. 

"  But  those  inmost  and  all-piercing  wounds  which  are 
wracking  while  uncured,  with  the  desire  of  satisfying  the 
few  friends  which  I  have  tried  by  the  fire  of  adversity 
— the  former  prompting,  the  latter  persuading — have 
caused  me  to  make  my  thoughts  legible  and  myself  the 
subject  of  every  man  however  weak." 

So  to  heal  the  bitter  wounds  of  regret,  of  disappoint- 
ment, of  broken  friendships  and.  of  forgotten  favors,  he 

7 


146  SLOW  SALE  OF  THE  WOEK. 

betook  himself  to  literature.  What  though  the  night  of 
age  and  death  was  closing  upon  him  !  He  would  still  do 
what  he  might.  What  though  youthful  ardor  had  fled 
for  ever !  still  had  he  the  goads  of  mortification  and  dis- 
appointment to  urge  him  forward.  Those  racking 
wounds  might  yet  be  soothed,  the  contempt  of  the  world 
be  forgotten,  the  listlessness  of  his  prison  life  be  borne 
amid  the  engrossing  interest  of  a  high  intellectual  pur- 
suit. 

The  history,  embracing  a  period  extending  from  the 
creation  to  the  sixth  century  of  Rome,  was  published  in 
1614.  It  is  said  to  have  had  so  slow  a  sale  that  the 
publisher  was  ruined.  The  story,  however,  is  doubtful. 
In  later  times  it  was  highly  valued  and  was  looked  upon 
as  one  of  the  finest  monuments  of  British  genius.  Many 
editions  were  published.  It  was  long  the  best  account 
of  the  nations  of  antiquity  composed  by  an  Englishman. 
It  is  now  seldom  read,  and  even  many,  not  wholly  igno- 
rant, have  forgotten  that  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  was,  in  his 
own  age  and  long  after,  the  first  and  most  celebrated  of 
the  British  historians. 

To  compose  this  work  he  must  have  gone  through  an 
amount  of  reading  remarkable  even  in  the  age  of 
Camden,  and  his  antiquarian  society.  It  shows  an 
acquaintance  with  all  classical  historians,  with  the 
deeper  philosophy  of  Greece,  and  with  the  sacred 
writings.  Its  style  is  singularly  strong  and  natural. 
With  some  of  the  obscurity  of  a  metaphysician,  it  yet 
in  descriptive  passages,  is  ever  clear  and  easy.  It  is  far 


HIS   PUKE   ENGLISH.  147 

less  confused  than  that  of  Bacon  and  more  weighty 
than  that  of  Sydney.  Its  English,  fresh  and  unassuming, 
flows  onward  in  graceful  periods,  with  none  of  that 
affectation  of  antiquity  which  marks  the  prefaces  of 
Spenser  or  the  inflated  pages  of  the  Arcadia.  The 
language  in  that  age  had  no  acknowledged  standard. 
Each  writer,  therefore,  selected  for  himself  the  guise 
in  which  he  would  convey  his  thoughts.  With  his  accus- 
tomed independence,  E-aleigh  made  a  language  of  his 
own,  nearly  approaching  the  tone  of  common  conversa- 
tion, and  separated  from  it  but  by  the  absence  of  vulgar 
phrases.  He  chose  simplicity  of  expression  in  an  age 
when  the  chief  merit  of  a  writer  was  supposed  to  lie  in 
the  discovery  of  a  style  that  ran  into  exaggerated 
euphuism  like  that  of  Sidney,  or  into  curt  sententious- 
ness  like  that  of  Bacon.  His  English  was  the  best  of 
his  age  with  the  single  exception  of  that  of  Shak- 
speare. 

His  thoughts  are  strikingly  new ;  not  with  the 
labored  singularity  of  those  of  Bacon,  but  with  a  fresh 
and  natural  simplicity  that  flows  from  a  peculiar  genius. 
Of  all  his  contemporaries  I  should  compare  him  chiefly 
with  Shakspeare.  Both  were  more  practised  in  the 
world  than  other  writers ;  the  one  from  mingling  much 
with  its  varied  scenes  ;  the  other  from  a  diligent  study 
of  actual  life  for  dramatic  purposes.  Both  wrote  in  a 
language  more  nearly  approaching  that  of  our  own 
time.  Both  contributed  to  give  to  the  present  English 
its  naturalness,  richness,  and  strength,  and  have  taught 


148  HIS   ORIGINALITY    OF   THOUGHT. 

succeeding  writers  to  avoid  labored  thoughts,  and  unna- 
tural conceits. 

The  originality  of  Raleigh's  nature  shows  itself  in  his 
treatment  of  his  materials.  He  does  not  simply  copy 
the  ancient  historians,  but  compares  and  collates  them 
with  the  skepticism  of  a  Niebuhr.  He  turns  contemp- 
tuously from  the  authority  of  ancient  names.  "  For 
myself,"  he  says,  "  I  shall  never  be  persuaded  that  God 
has  shut  up  all  the  light  of  learning  within  the  lan- 
thorne  of  Aristotle's  brain."  And  he  evidently  looks 
upon  the  Latin  historians,  particularly  Livy,  with  the 
same  spirit  which  in  the  modern  school  of  Beaufort, 
Mebuhr,  and  Arnold,  has  led  to  a  complete  over- 
throw of  the  received  legends  of  Roman  history. 
Raleigh's  fresh  and  animated  researches,  had  they 
fallen  upon  fruitful  soil,  might  have  prevented  all  those 
servile  copies  of  Livy  and  Dion  Cassius,  which,  bor- 
rowed from  France,  became  the  chief  works  upon  that 
subject,  for  more  than  two  centuries  afterwards.  As  an 
example  of  his  peculiar  skepticism  in  Roman  history,  as 
well  as  of  his  style,  I  add  a  passage  from  his  History  of 
the  "World.  He  is  endeavoring  to  construct  a  probable 
account  of  the  exploits  of  the  two  Scipios  in  Spain.  It 
will  recall  to  the  reader  many  passages  of  similiar  criti- 
cism in  Arnold  and  Niebuhr. 

"  The  acts  of  these  two  brethren  (Publius  and  Cn.  Scipio),  in  their 
province  were  very  great,  and,  as  they  are  reported,  marvellous.  And 
pcradventure,  if  we  durst  be  bold  to  say  it,  the  victories  of  the  Scipios 
were  neither  so  many  nor  so  great  as  they  are  set  out  in  Livy.  This  we 


MILITARY   EXPERIENCE.  149 

may  be  bold  to  say,  that  the  great  Captain  Fabius,  or  Livy  in  his  person, 
maketh  an  objection  unto  Scipio,  which  neither  Scipio  nor  Livy  for  him 
doth  answer  ;  that  if  Asdrubal  were  vanquished,  as  Scipio  would  say, 
by  him  in  Spain,  strange  it  was,  and  as  little  to  his  honor  as  it  had  been 
extremely  dangerous  to  Rome,  that  the  same  vanquished  man  should  invade 
Italy.  And  indeed,  it  is  an  incredible  narration,  that  Asdrubal,  enclosed 
on  all  sides,  and  not  knowing  how  to  escape  out  of  battle,  save  only  by 
the  steep  descent  of  rocks,  over  a  great  river  that  lay  at  his  back,  ran  away 
with  all  his  money,  elephants,  and  broken  troops,  over  Tagus  directly 
towards  the  Pyrenees,  and  so  towards  Italy  ;  upon  which  he  fell  with 
more  than  three  score  thousand  armed  soldiers.  Neither  do  I  see  how 
it  hangs  well  together  that  he  chose  a  piece  of  ground  very  defensible 
but  most  incommodious  for  his  retreat,  if  he  should  happen  to  be  van- 
quished ;  and  yet  that  he  sent  all  his  money  and  elephants  away  before 
him,  as  not  intending  to  abide  the  enemy  ;  or  how  it  could  be  true,  that 
these  his  elephants,  being  so  sent  before,  could  hinder  the  Romans  (for 
so  they  are  said  to  have  done  in  the  last  battle  between  him  and  Scipio) 
from  breaking  into  his  camp.  Wherefore  we  can  no  more  than  be  sorry, 
that  all  Carthaginian  records  of  this  war,  and  Spanish  (if  there  were 
any)  being  utterly  lost,  we  can  know  no  more  thereof  than  what  it  hath 
pleased  the  Romans  to  tell  us  ;  unto  whom  it  were  no  wisdom  to  give 
too  much  credit." 

In  this  criticism  Kaleigh's  military  experience  aids 
his  theoretical  skepticism.  His  varied  knowledge  was 
ever  in  use,  and  combined  with  his  native  independence 
of  thought  to  lead  him  to  an  impartial  scrutiny  of  his 
materials.  The  spirit  of  skepticism  runs  through  all 
the  work.  It  dissects  and  questions  the  speculations  of 
the  philosophers,  as  well  as  of  the  historians,  and  leads 
him  into  many  discussions  in  the  earlier  chapters, 
which,  while  they  take  much  from  its  popular  interest, 
give  it  a  peculiar  depth.  Of  these  discussions  Hume 


150  HIS   METAPHYSICAL   REASONINGS. 

speaks  contemptuously.    To  Mm  they  were  only  tedious 
"  Jewish  and  Kabbiiiical  learning." 

Yet  as  examples  of  novel  thinking  they  indicate  the 
nature  of  Kaleigh's  genius,  while  the  lover  of  intellec- 
tual subtleties  will  find  them  not  unamusing.  There  is 
an  alluring  quaintness  in  the  titles  of  some  of  the  books, 
particularly  as  they  stand  as  portals  opening  to  the 
Grand  History  of  the  "World.  One  is  on  "  the  Place  of 
Paradise,"  others,  "  of  our  base  and  fallen  bodies  and 
that  the  care  thereof  should  yield  to  that  of  the  immor- 
tal soul."  "  That  man  is  as  it  were  a  little  world  with  a 
digression  touching  our  mortality."  "  Of  The  Two 
Chief  Trees  in  the  Garden."  And  similar  themes. 

Raleigh  thus  confutes  Pantheism :  "  For  the  rest  I  do 
account  it  not  the  meanest,  but  an  impiety  monstrous  to 
confound  God  and  nature — be  it  but  in  terms.  For  it 
is  God  that  only  disposeth  of  all  things,  according  to 
his  will.  It  is  Nature  that  can  dispose  of  nothing; 
God  commands,  Nature  obeys.  God  begets  all  things ; 
Nature  is  begotten." 

He  calls  great  conquerors  "Troublers  of  the  world, 
who  have  bought  their  glory  with  so  great  destruction 
and  effusion  of  blood."  And  with  the  instinctive  recti- 
tude of  a  man  of  genius,  doubts  the  propriety  of  award- 
ing fame  to  mere  courage  and  military  skill. 

His  plan  of  historical  composition  is  imperfect. 
Hume's  criticism  was  just,  and  the  work  without  its 
singular  introduction  would  have  been  more  widely 
read.  Some  features,  however,  it  had  which  Hume 


A   PASSAGE   FKOM   THE   HISTORY.  151 

might  well  have  imitated.  It  abounds  in  descriptions 
of  scenery  and  manners.  Kaleigh  seldom  carries  the 
reader  to  a  new  country  without  endeavoring  to  define 
to  him  its  nature  and  its  resources.  To  do  this  he  brings 
into  use  all  his  varied  knowledge.  He  quotes  largely 
from  books  of  travel  and  late  voyages.  He  even  uses 
Mandeville  with  some  distrust  and  a  degree  of  confi- 
dence which  modern  discoveries  have  justified  him  in 
awarding.  Had  he  possessed  more  accurate  sources  of 
information  than  the  few  researches  of  travellers  in 
that  age  he  would  have  produced  a  work  in  this  respect 
resembling  that  of  the  trustworthy  Arnold. 

I  quote  but  one  passage  more  from  the  history  of  the 
world.  It  is  his  account  of  Scipio  Africanus.  "  This 
is  that  Scipio,  who  afterwards  transferred  the  war  into 
Afric,  where  he  happily  ended  it  to  the  great  honor  and 
profit  of  his  country.  He  was  a  man  of  goodly  pre- 
sence, and  singularly  well-conditioned,  especially  he 
excelled  in  temperance,  continency,  bounty,  and  other 
virtues  that  purchase  love,  of  which  qualities  what 
great  use  he  made  shall  appear  in  the  tenor  of  his 
actions  following.  As  for  those  things  that  are  reported 
of  him,  savoring  a  little  too  much  of  the  great  Alex- 
ander's vanity :  how  he  used  to  walk  alone  in  the 
capitol,  as  one  that  had  some  secret  conference  with 
Jupiter ;  how  a  dragon  (which  must  have  been  one  of 
the  gods  and  in  all  likelihood  Jupiter  himself)  was 
thought  to  have  conversed  with  his  mother,  entering  her 
chamber  often  and  vanishing  away  at  the  coming  in  of 
any  more,  and  how  of  these  matters  he  nourished  the 


152  ITS    STYLE   AND    SUBJECT. 

rumor  by  doubtful  answers ;  I  hold  them  no  better  than 
fables,  devised  by  Historians,  who  thought  thereby  to 
add  unto  the  glory  of  Rome ;  that  this  noble  city  might 
seem  not  only  to  have  surpassed  other  nations  in  the 
virtue  of  the  generality,  but  also  in  the  worth  of  one 
single  man.  To  this  end  nothing  is  left  out  that  might 
serve  to  adorn  this  Roman  champion.  For  it  is  con- 
fidently written,  as  a  matter  of  unquestionable  truth, 
that  when  a  proconsul  was  to  be  chosen  for  Spain,  there 
durst  not  any  captain  of  the  principal  citizens  offer  him- 
self as  petitioner  for  that  honorable,  but  dangerous 
charge  ;  that  the  people  of  Rome  were  much  astonished 
thereat ;  that,  when  the  day  of  election  came,  all  the 
princes  in  the  city  stood  looking  one  another  in  the 
face,  not  one  having  the  heart  to  adventure  himself  in 
such  a  desperate  service ;  and  finally,  that  this  Publius 
Cornelius  Scipio,  being  then  about  four  and  twenty 
years  of  age,  getting  up  upon  a  high  place,  where  he 
might  be  seen  of  all  the  multitude,  requested  and 
obtained,  that  the  office  might  be  conferred  upon  him. 
If  this  were  true,  then  were  all  the  victories  of  L.  Mar- 
cius  no  better  than  dreams,  and  either  very  unreason- 
able was  the  fear  of  all  the  Roman  captains,  who  durst 
not  follow  Claudius  Nero,  that  not  long  before  was  gone 
to  Spain  propraetor,  or  very  bad  intelligence  they  had 
out  of  the  province,  which  Asdrubal,  the  Carthaginian, 
as  we  heard  even  now,  was  ready  to  abandon.  But 
upon  these  incoherences  which  I  find  in  the  too  partial 
Roman  Historians,  I  do  not  willingly  insist." 

Once  more,  after  thirteen  years  of  forced  repose,  he 


EALEIGH   BECOMES   HIGHLY   POPULAR.  153 

came  forward  before  the  world,  the  adventurous,  rest- 
less, valiant  spirit  he  had  appeared  to  his  Elizabethan 
contemporaries.  His  expedition  to  Guiana  was  the 
single  warlike  enterprise  that  marked  the  sluggish 
reign  of  James.  It  recalled  to  the  nation  something 
of  the  realities  of  the  times  of  Drake  and  Frobisher. 

His  enemy  Cecil  had  died.  Car,  the  favorite,  had 
fallen  under  a  charge  of  poisoning,  and  was  now  a 
prisoner  in  disgrace.  The  new  favorite,  Villiers,  was 
all-powerful.  Raleigh's  friends  applied  to  Sir  Wm.  St. 
John  and  Sir  Edward  Villiers,  the  uncles  of  the  favorite, 
offering  them  fifteen  hundred  pounds  to  influence  their 
nephew  to  obtain  his  release.  The  bribe  succeeded  in 
procuring  an  act  of  justice  which  no  solicitation  nor 
argument  had  been  able  to  hasten.  Raleigh  was  released 
and  placed  by  the  royal  commission  at  the  head  of  a 
naval  force  destined  for  Guiana. 

In  his  fallen  fortunes,  through  all  his  dreary  imprison- 
ment, the  vision  of  Eldorado  had  never  ceased  at  inter- 
vals to  dawn  upon  his  mind  in  all  its  wonted  brightness. 
His  youthful  imagination  survived  disgrace  and  disap- 
pointment. The  poetic  element  of  his  nature  remained. 
He  still  hoped  to  repair  his  fortunes  by  one  bold  achieve- 
ment, to  win  wealth,  renown,  and  power,  and  to  close 
his  varied  life  by  securing  the  fortunes  and  greatness  of 
hig  family. 

He  was  now  an  object  of  general  love  and  compassion 
to  the  people,  who  glowed  with  hatred  against  Spain, 
despised  the  pacific  timidity  of  James,  and  longed  for 

7* 


154:  THE   SPANIARDS    ANTICIPATE   HIM. 

nothing  so  much  as  a  war  with  the  Spaniard,  and  a 
renewal  of  those  glorious  forays  upon  the  sea  which  had 
signalized  and  enriched  the  reign  of  Elizabeth.  But 
the  old  spirit  of  buccaneering  had  long  since  died  out. 
The  famous  mariners  who  had  swept  the  Spanish  main, 
the  Drakes,  the  Cumberlands,  the  Howards,  were  dead. 
Of  all  that  noble  company  Raleigh  alone  survived ;  his 
great  faculties  wasting  unemployed  in  the  Tower,  and 
the  fame  of  his  past  achievements  rising  up  more 
proudly  day  by  day,  to  the  disgrace  of  the  degenerate 
king  who  had  deprived  the  nation  of  its  boldest  com- 
mander. The  people  therefore  universally  loved  and 
honored  Raleigh.  His  old  pride  and  unpopularity  were 
forgotten.  And  as  he  came  forth  from  the  Tower  to 
head  a  new  expedition  to  the  Spanish  main,  he  was  wel- 
comed with  general  joy. 

But  Spain  had  already  anticipated  him.  It  had 
treated  with  contempt  the  right  which  he  had  estab- 
lished for  England  to  the  possession  of  Guiana,  by 
priority  of  discovery.  It  had  already  settled  and  built 
a  town  in  that  country.  And  no  sooner  did  Gondomar, 
the  Spanish  ambassador,  hear  of  Raleigh's  preparations 
than  he  complained  of  it  to  the  king,  as  a  violation 
of  the  peace  between  the  two  countries.  James  was 
intimidated.  He  repented  of  his  concession  to  Raleigh. 
But  he  could  not  now  retract.  He  therefore  assured 
Gondomar  that  the  expedition  was  not  a  military  one, 
and  that  Raleigh  would  not  venture  to  violate  the  peace. 
He  betrayed  to  the  Spaniard  the  exact  number  and 


155 


power  of  Ms  ships,  together  with  the  place  where  he 
intended  to  land,  and  thus  enabled  him  to  warn  his  coun- 
trymen in  Guiana  to  guard  against  surprise. 

Raleigh's  fleet  consisted  of  twelve  ships,  and  he  was 
attended  by  a  large  number  of  adventurers.  His  princi- 
pal object  was  to  discover  a  mine  of  gold  of  incalculable 
richness,  which  lay  in  El  Dorado  not  far  from  the  river 
Orinoco.  Hume  thinks  that  the  story  of  the  mine  was 
a  mere  feint,  and  that  his  only  real  design  was  to  attack 
the  Spanish  settlements.  He  urges  that  so  large  a  fleet 
would  not  be  required  for  a  simple  voyage  of  discovery. 

But  there  is  no  probability  in  this  theory.  Ealeigh 
evidently  was  a  sincere  believer  in  El  Dorado.  On  this 
belief  he  had  now  risked  all  that  he  possessed,  his  life, 
fortune  and  fame.  The  expenses  of  the  expedition  were 
paid  with  the  remnant  of  his  former  property.  The 
eight  thousand  pounds  which  had  been  given  in  com- 
pensation for  his  Sherbroke  estate,  with  twenty-five 
hundred  pounds  raised  for  him  by  his  devoted  wife  upon 
her  estate  in  Surrey,  were  all  ventured  upon  this  last 
scheme.  The  adventurers  who  accompanied  him  were 
chiefly  his  own  relatives  or  friends  who  had  been 
allured  by  his  fame  and  confided  in  his  wisdom.  He 
took  with  him  his  eldest  son  "Walter,  and  his  staunch 
friend,  captain  Keymis.  It  is  plain  that  once  more 
his  ardent  spirit  flamed  high,  tfrat  his  bold  imagination 
was  on  fire,  and  that  he  firmly  believed  that  the  glitter- 
ing vision  which  had  so  often  eluded  him  was  now  at 
last  within  his  reach. 


156  HIS    LAST    EXPEDITION. 

Broken  by  age,  for  he  was  now  sixty-six  years  old,  pal- 
sied and  withered  by  confinement  and  sorrow,  the  hero, 
undaunted,  \vent  forth  from,  England  on  his  doubtful 
voyage,  as  bravely  and  hopefully  as  he  had  broken  into 
the  harbor  of  Cadiz.  He  wrote  to  his  wife  on  his  out- 
ward passage  that  he  had  been  very  sick,  but  that  his 
son  remained  well,  and  that  they  had  yet  strength  enough 
to  accomplish  all  they  had  undertaken.  He  was  so 
weakened  by  a  fever  when  he  arrived  at  the  mouth  of  the 
Orinoco  that  he  was  carried  about  in  a  chair.  He  sent 
Keymis  up  the  river  to  take  possession  of  the  mine. 
The  Spaniards  fired  upon  the  English,  who  immediately 
attacked  them,  took  the  town  of  St.  Thomas,  and  plun- 
dered it.  Young  "Walter  Raleigh  fell  dead  among  the 
the  first.  Keymis  did  not  reach  the  mine,  but  returned, 
unsuccessful,  to  his  commander  with  the  intelligence  of 
his  son's  death.  In  the  bitterness  of  his  grief  and  dis- 
appointment Raleigh  reproached  Keymis  with  having 
deluded  and  betrayed  him.  The  faithful  captain  went 
to  his  cabin  and  shot  himself,  in  mortification  and 
remorse.  The  adventurers,  alarmed  at  their  own  guilt, 
in  having  attacked  and  plundered  a  Spanish  town  during 
profound  peace,  resolved  to  return  to  England,  carrying 
Raleigh  with  them. 

Such  was  his  last,  disastrous  voyage.  In  the  account 
which  he  sent  Secretary.  Winwood  from  St.  Christopher, 
he  endeavors,  with  great  art,  to  excuse  himself.  He 
says  that  the  capture  of  the  town  was  not  designed  but 
accidental.  He  lays  the  blame  of  the  attack  upon 


UK    RETURNS    TO    DIE.  157 

.  Keymis,  and  skillfully  brings  forward  the  argument  that 
England's  claim  to  Guiana  justified  all  his  proceedings. 
But  he  had  no  heart  to  write  his  misfortunes  to  that 
wife  whose  fortunes  and  happiness  he  had  ruined.  He 
tells  her  to  ask  Winwood  for  a  copy  of  his  letter,  which 
will  give  her  all  the  particulars,  afor  my  brains  are 
broken,"  he  adds,  "  and  it  is  a  torment  to  me  to  write, 
especially  of  my  misery." 

When  Raleigh  landed  at  Plymouth,  his  frame  quiver- 
ing with  disease  and  his  golden  vision  vanished  for  ever, 
he  was  received  with  sympathy  and  veneration  by  his 
countrymen.  To  them  he  was  still,  though  unsuccessful, 
the  gallant  and  gifted  soldier,  the  firm  though  ill- 
rewarded  patriot.  It  is  not  likely,  therefore,  that  James 
would  have  ventured  upon  so  unpopular  a  measure  as 
his  execution  had  he  not  been  forced  to  sacrifice  him  to 
the  solicitations  of  Gondomar. 

Spain  was  resolved  to  have  his  head.  She  could  not 
feel  secure  while  the  conqueror  of  Cadiz  and  the  brave 
assailant  of  the  armada  was  yet  alive,  sighing  to  renew 
the  achievements  of  his  youth.  Gondomar,  therefore, 
pressed  the  feeble  king  with  threats  and  allurements. 
He  called  Raleigh  a  pirate.  He  exclaimed  that  he  had 
broken  a  sacred  peace,  that  he  had  plundered  a  Spanish 
town,  and  had  even  proposed  to  his  associates  to  waylay 
and  capture  the  plate  fleet.  The  king's  old  dislike  and 
suspicion  of  Raleigh  seconded  the  demands  of  the 
Spaniards.  He  published  a  declaration  professing  his 
detestation  of  the  expedition,  and  charging  his  subjects 


158  ATTEMPTS   TO   ESCAPE. 

to  give  in  all  the  evidence  they  possessed  in  relation  to 
it.  Raleigh's  friends  exerted  themselves  to  save  him, 
but  found  James  relentless.  Lord  Carew  went  on  his 
knees  before  the  king,  begging  for  Raleigh's  life.  James 
answered  that  he  had  as  well  hang  him  as  give  him  up 
to  the  Spaniards,  which  he  must  certainly  do.  When 
Carew  persisted,  he  said  all  he  could  do  was  to  give 
Raleigh  a  hearing. 

From  Plymouth  Raleigh  was  brought  to  London  in 
charge  of  his  relative,  Sir  Luke  Stukely,  who  had  been 
sent  to  arrest  him.  At  Plymouth  he  might  have  escaped. 
He  afterwards  lamented  to  his  wife  that  he  had  not  done 
so.  In  order  to  delay  his  fate  he  is  reported  to  have 
feigned  illness.  He  endeavored  to  escape  in  disguise 
from  a  boat  on  the  Thames,  but  was  betrayed  by  the 
infamous  Stukely,  apprehended  and  confined  in  the 
Tower.  He  was  examined  before  the  chancellor  and 
other  commissioners,  and  it  was  then  resolved  to  execute 
the  sentence  which  had  been  passed  upon  him  sixteen 
years  before. 

He  was  told  that  he  must  prepare  for  death.  Although 
weakened  by  fever  he  was  taken  while  in  a  severe  ague 
fit  to  the  bar  of  the  Court  of  the  King's  Bench,  to  receive 
his  sentence.  The  writ  was  read,  and  Yelverton,  the 
attorney,  said :  "  My  lords,  Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  the 
prisoner  at  the  bar,  was  fifteen  years  since  convicted  of 
high  treason  committed  against  the  person  of  his  majesty. 
His  majesty  now  calls  him  to  execution.  Sir  Walter 
hath  been  a  statesman  and  a  man  who,  in  regard  to  his 


THE  APPKOACH  OF  DEATH.  159 

parts  and  qualities,  is  to  be  pitied.  He  hath  been  a 
star  at  which  the  world  hath  gazed;  but  stars  may  fall." 

Raleigh  was  asked  what  he  had  to  say  why  sentence 
of  death  should  not  be  passed  upon  him.  He  replied  : 
"  My  lord,  my  voice  has  grown  weak  by  reason  of  sick- 
ness." 

Chief  Justice.  "Sir  Walter,  your  voice  is  audible 
enough." 

Raleigh  went  on  to  urge  that  though  never  been 
explicitly  pardoned  by  the  king,  that  he  yet  had  received 
an  implied  pardon.  The  chief  justice  interrupted  him, 
asserting  that  his  former  sentence  still  remained  in  force. 
Raleigh  then  said  that  he  threw  himself  upon  the  mercy 
of  the  king.  He  was  taken  in  custody  by  the  sheriff 
of  Middlesex.  A  warrant  for  his  execution  had  been 
signed  by  the  king,  who  would  listen  to  no  appeals  for 
mercy  for  the  noble  prisoner,  though  his  own  queen 
seems  to  have  been  one  of  the  intercessors.  He  was 
condemned  to  be  beheaded. 

As  death  approached  he  grew  calm  and  cheerful. 
The  sorrows  of  life  could  no  more  wound  him.  The 
Dean  of  "Westmoreland,  who  attended  him,  was  aston- 
ished at  his  cheerfulness.  He  took  the  communion,  but 
persisted  in  professing  his  innocence.  He  asserted  he 
had  done  no  wrong.  He  even  amused  himself  at  this 
time  by  writing  verses,  and  a  fine  poem,  the  Pilgrimage, 
is  ascribed  to  this  late  hour.  On  the  morning  of  his 
execution  he  was  very  cheerful,  taking  a  hearty  break- 
fast and  beguiling  his  time  with  smoking. 


160  HIS    EXECUTION. 

On  Thursday,  October  29,  1618,  the  great  author, 
discoverer  and  soldier  was  led  to  the  scaffold.  He  wore 
a  smiling  countenance.  He  saluted  the  lords  and  gentle- 
men, whom  he  recognized  among  the  crowd,  with  his 
usual  courtesy.  In  his  speech  to  the  sheriff  he  again 
protested  his  innocence.  The  scaffold  was  then  cleared. 
He  prepared  for  execution,  distributing  his  hat,  money 
and  other  trifles  among  his  attendants.  He  begged 
Lord  Arundel  to  intercede  with  the  king  that  no  defam- 
atory writing  might  be  suffered  to  appear  against  him 
after  his  death.  In  concluding  his  request,  he  said :  "I 
have  a  long  journey  to  go ;  I  will  now  take  my  leave." 
He  then  felt  the  edge  of  the  axe,  saying :  "  It  is  a  sharp 
remedy  but  a  sure  one  for  all  diseases."  Passing  around 
the  scaffold,  he  begged  those  near  to  pray  that  God 
would  strengthen  and  assist  him.  He  then  laid  his 
head  upon  the  block  and  died. 

His  head  was  long  preserved  by  his  devoted  lady  in 
a  case.  She  survived  her  husband  twenty-nine  years, 
during  all  which  time  she  preserved  this  sorrowful  and 
dreadful  memento.  When  she  died  it  came  in  charge 
of  his  son,  Carew,  who  finally  buried  it.  His  body  was 
interred  in  the  church  of  St.  Margaret. 

His  family  sank  with  him.  Walter,  his  eldest  son, 
had  fallen  in  El  Dorado.  Carew,  born  while  he  was  a 
prisoner,  was  educated  at  Oxford,  and  came  to  court 
about  five  years  after  his  father's  death,  under  the 
patronage  of  the  Earl  of  Pembroke.  James  could  not 
bear  to  look  upon  him.  He  said  he  appeared  to  him 


HIS    SON   CAREW.  161 

like  the  ghost  of  his  father.  Pembroke  advised  him  to 
travel  during  the  king's  life.  "When  Charles  became 
king,  he  petitioned  the  House  of  Lords  to  have  his 
father's  estate  restored  to  him.  Charles  sent  for  him, 
treated  him  with  great  kindness,  but  told  him  that 
Sherbroke  had  been  conveyed  to  the  Earl  of  Bristol,  in 
his  father's  reign,  for  ten  thousand  pounds,  and  that  his 
petition  could  not,  therefore,  be  granted.  The  king 
made  it  a  condition  of  his  favor,  that  Raleigh  should 
resign  all  claim  to  Sherbroke.  The  friendless  youth 
consented ;  and  Charles  settled  a  pension  of  four  hundred 
pounds  for  life  upon  Lady  Raleigh,  with  a  reversion  to 
her  son  after  her  death. 

He  married  Lady  Philippa,  widow  of  Sir  Anthony 
Ashley,  who  had  a  large  fortune.  In  1634,  he  was 
made  a  gentleman  of  the  king's  bedchamber.  In  1651, 
during  the  revolution,  when  the  Earl  of  Bristol  had  fled 
to  the  continent,  he  petitioned  the  revolutionary  Parlia- 
ment to  have  Sherbroke  restored.  A  committee  of 
the  House  reported  favorably  to  his  petition,  but  nothing 
was  done.  Not  long  after,  by  the  favor  of  General 
Monk,  he  was  made  governor  of  the  Island  of  Jersey. 
He  was  the  author  of  some  poetry,  and  wrote  a  defence 
of  his  father.  His  son  Walter  was  knighted  by  Charles 
H.  but  died  young,  the  last  of  his  race. 

In  view  of  the  whole  life  of  Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  it  is 
difficult  to  determine  upon  which  of  his  various  great 
qualities  and  successes  his  fame  with  posterity  should 
rest.  In  almost  everything  that  he  attempted  he  excelled. 


162         THE   INTELLECT  AND  CHARACTER  OF  RALEIGH. 

He  was  a  poet,  the  author  of  sweet  and  touching  verses. 
A  warrior  unsurpassed  in  courage,  coolness  and  decision. 
A  courtier  of  remarkable  address.  As  Yelverton  said 
upon  his  trial,  he  was  "a  statesman  at  whom  the  world 
gazed  as  at  a  star."  His  noble  schemes  of  colonization 
and  discovery,  have  made  the  ]STew  World  the  home  of 
the  Anglo-Saxon.  As  an  historian  he  was  learned,  saga- 
cious, and  original.  His  wide  and  boundless  learning 
flows  without  stint  through  his  pages  and  wearies  the 
reader  with  a  profusion  of  riches.  He  brings  into  his- 
torical studies  the  same  bold  and  creative  spirit  which 
marked  him  as  a  warrior  or  as  a  discoverer,  and  there  can 
be  no  doubt,  that  had  his  work  been  properly  studied 
and  appreciated  by  his  successors,  it  must  have  produced 
a  complete  revolution  in  historical  research.  In  fact 
Beaufort  and  Niebuhr  had  done  little  more  than  apply 
to  Greek  and  Roman  history,  the  skepticism  recom- 
mended by  Sir  Walter. 

The  character  of  Raleigh  was  as  varied  and  peculiar 
as  was  his  intellect.  At  one  moment  he  was  engrossed 
with  the  pomp  and  pleasures  of  the  world,  at  another 
he  fled  with  sincere  penitence  to  enter  into  communion 
with  the  deity.  He  loved  nature,  simplicity,  and  peace, 
yet  he  chose  to  shine  in  the  court  of  Elizabeth,  the  most 
extravagant,  and  luxurious  of  his  peers.  He  was  fond 
of  fine  dress,  diamonds,  stately  pageants,  and  costly 
entertainments  :  he  was  proud,  revengeful,  and  fond  of 
power ;  he  sought  to  win  the  affection  of  his  mistress  the 
queen,  by  a  profession  of  unbounded  love,  and  to  gain  her 


163 

admiration  by  perilous  exploits  on  land  and  sea.  Yet 
in  the  midst  of  this  stimulating  pursuit  he  was  wedded 
to  one  for  whom  he  evidently  continued  ever  afterward 
to  cherish  a  most  unfaltering  affection.  There  were 
moments  when  Raleigh  indulged  in  dissimulation  and 
falsehood.  At  others  he  was  the  most  sincere  and  open 
of  his  race.  Nor  can  we  avoid  perceiving  that  his 
nature,  originally  designed  for  purer  purposes,  was 
gradually  tainted  by  the  influences  of  a  courtier's  life  ; 
and  that  his  character  wants  that  dignity  and  elevation 
which  we  readily  ascribe  to  his  intellect. 


WILLIAM    CAMDEN. 

CAMDEN  was  born  in  the  Old  Bailey,  London,  May 
2d,  1551.  He  was  one  of  the  few  eminent  Englishmen 
who  have  come  from  the  metropolis.  His  father  was  a 
painter  and  stainer,  a  circumstance  which  Camden,  in 
his  fame,  never  forgot,  but  left,  at  his  death,  a  gilt  bowl 
to  the  company  of  painters  and  stainers  of  London, 
inscribed  with  the  words,  "  The  gift  of  Win.  Camden, 
son  of  Sampson  Camden,  Painter,  of  London."  His 
mother  was  a  Curwen,  of  an  old  family  in  Cumber- 
land. 

The  historian  was  therefore  poor  by  birth  and  low  in 
station,  and  little  is  known  of  his  early  life.  When  he 
was  about  twelve  years  old,  being  seized  with  the 
plague,  which  was  then  prevailing  in  London,  he  was 
taken  into  the  country  for  the  benefit  of  his  health, 
and,  on  his  recovery,  was  sent  to  St.  Paul's  School, 
where,  it  is  said,  he  delighted  in  the  study  of  the  lan- 
guages. He  soon  after  entered  Oxford  as  a  servitor, 
and  being  disappointed  of  a  scholarship  in  Magdalen 
College  was  invited  by  his  friend  and  tutor,  Dr.  Thomas 


HE   GOES    UP   TO   LONDON.  165 

Thornton,  to  Pembroke.  Here  he  became  noted  for  his 
devotion  to  study,  and  already  began  to  indulge  his 
passion,  for  antiquarian  research,  a  taste  which  was 
shared  by  several  of  his  acquaintances.  "When  Dr. 
Thornton  was  made  a  canon  of  Christ's  Church  he  car- 
ried Camden  with  him,  and  entertained  him  for  some 
time  at  his  house.  At  twenty  Camden  became  a 
candidate  for  a  fellowship  at  All  Souls,  but  failed 
because  his  Protestant  principles  were  displeasing  to 
the  majority  of  the  college.  His  circumstances  now 
obliged  him  to  leave  the  University,  but  in  1588,  after 
the  publication  of  the  Britannia,  Oxford  bestowed  upon 
him  the  degree  of  Bachelor  of  Arts,  and  at  a  later 
period  that  of  Master. 

From  the  University  he  came  up  to  London,  with 
probably  indifferent  prospects,  and  after  a  brief  stay  in 
the  metropolis,  seems  to  have  wandered  away  to  pass 
several  years  in  visiting  different  parts  of  England,  in 
the  indulgence  of  his  ruling  taste.  He  was  yet  poor 
and  unknown,  and  probably  travelled  on  foot  from 
shire  to  shire,  examining  the  remarkable  relics  of  anti- 
quity, and  collecting  the  first  beginnings  of  that  vast 
fund  of  local  knowledge  which  finally  rewarded  his 
labors. 

Camden  was  born  an  antiquarian.  Of  the  few  parti- 
culars known  of  his  childhood,  he  has  himself  related 
the  most  important.  He  tells  us  that  even  when  a 
schoolboy  he  could  never  pass  any  object  of  an  antique 
appearance  without  pausing  to  examine  it.  As  he 


166      HIS   EARLY    LOVE   FOR   THE   OLD    AND    FORGOTTEN. 

grew  older  his  singular  passion  increased  in  strength. 
At  Oxford  he  still  found  leisure  to  gratify  it,  and  even 
inspired  several  of  his  fellow-students  with  his  own 
ardent  love  for  the  old  and  the  forgotten.  "When  he 
became  second  master  of  "Westminster  School,  every 
vacation  or  holiday  was  devoted  to  distant  rambles  to 
the  sources  of  the  Thames,  or  the  banks  of  the  Stour, 
and  so  successful  was  he  in  his  explorations,  that,  while 
yet  under  thirty,  the  fame  of  his  great  researches  had 
spread  over  Europe. 

Among  his  own  countrymen  his  taste  was  soon 
observed  and  encouraged,  and  he  could  hardly  have 
been  born  in  an  age  more  favorable  to  his  peculiar 
pursuits.  The  eminent  men  of  the  time,  grown  weary 
of  scholastic  speculation,  were  turning  with  new  ardor 
to  the  collection  and  the  study  of  facts.  Bacon, 
Raleigh,  Sidney,  and  their  great  contemporaries  were 
all  men  of  original  research,  and  eager  for  new  discove- 
ries in  every  branch  of  learning.  When,  therefore,  the 
extent  and  usefulness  of  Camden's  studies  became 
known,  he  was  at  once  appreciated  and  sustained. 
Sidney,  amiable  and  gifted,  was  his  earliest  patron. 
Cotton  supplied  him  with  books;  the  two  Goodmans 
not  only  aided  him  with  money  and  books,  but  secured 
for  him  the  appointment  in  Westminster  School. 

The  studies  in  which  Camden  was  engaged  were  not 
only  new  to  his  countrymen,  but  were  singularly  well 
fitted,  at  that  peculiar  moment,  to  awaken  and  fix  their 
regard.  The  native  pride  of  Englishmen  in  the  age  of 


HE   RESOLVES   TO   WRITE   OF   BRITISH    ANTIQUITIES. 

Elizabeth,  was  heightened  by  their  political  situation  ; 
they  were  separated  from  the  great  nations  of  the 
continent  by  their  heretical  faith  and  their  insular  posi- 
tion ;  they  stood  aloof  from  their  Catholic  neighbors, 
and  in  defiance  of  the  civilized  world.  And  it  was  not 
unnatural,  at  such  a  crisis,  that  their  affections  should 
centre,  with  unusual  warmth,  upon  their  own  beautiful 
native  island.  The  purer  impulses  of  patriotism  were 
probably  never  so  strong  in  England  as  they  were  in 
the  age  of  Raleigh  and  Camden.  Whoever,  therefore, 
could  recall  the  legends  of  ancient  Britain,  and  invest 
its  most  common-place  regions  with  an  historical 
renown ;  who  could  relate  to  his  modern  readers  the 
history  of  every  shire,  and  every  town ;  could  trace  the 
windings  of  its  smallest  stream ;  repeat  the  local  tradi- 
tions that  clustered  around  its  banks,  and  recall  the 
ruined  cities  that  once  rose  proudly  at  its  side  ;  who 
could  paint  so  clear  a  picture  of  England,  past  and 
present,  as  should  be  at  once  familiar  and  yet  new,  was 
certain  to  arouse  the  enthusiasm  of  his  countrymen  and 
to  deserve  their  highest  applause. 

This  was  now  the  aim  of  Camden.  Heretofore  he 
seems  to  have  studied  with  the  discursiveness  of  an 
enthusiast,  gratifying  his  love  of  a  peculiar  knowledge 
with  indiscriminate  zeal.  But  he  had  now  a  definite 
object,  and  he  resolved  to  gratify  his  friends  and  his 
countrymen  by  compiling  an  accurate  account  of  British 
antiquities. 

Yet  he  little  foresaw  the  great  labors  and  difficulties 
to  which  his  patriotic  undertaking  must  expose  him. 


168  HIS   LABORS. 

His  previous  studies  proved  only  the  beginning  of  a 
vast  and  ceaseless  research.  His  first  difficulty  was  the 
want  of  materials :  he  was  for  a  long  time  unable  to 
procure  a  correct  copy  of  the  Itinerary  of  Antoninus, 
and  succeeded  finally  by  the  aid  of  his  foreign  corres- 
pondents. When  he  obtained  the  Itinerary  it  opened 
the  way  to  new  labors.  He  found  that  the  Roman 
names  of  towns  were  often  corruptions  of  the  elder 
British  name,  and  that  he  must  study  "Welsh  in  order  to 
identify  them.  This  language  he  acquired  with  less 
difficulty  because  it  was  a  living  tongue,  cherished  in 
that  extremity  of  the  island  where  the  Britons  had  fled 
from  their  Roman  invaders.  On  reaching  the  period 
of  the  Saxon  invasion,  however,  his  embarrassment  was 
redoubled ;  the  Saxon  language  had,  in  that  day,  com- 
pletely died  out,  or  become  blended  with  the  Norman 
French,  and  no  industrious  scholars  had  yet  revived  its 
grammar  and  its  dictionaries  for  the  use  of  the  ardent 
antiquary.  He  was  forced,  therefore,  to  restore  a  dead 
language,  which  had  lain  unused  for  four  centuries,  and 
which  existed  only  in  the  fragments  of  a  few  forgotten 
writers  scattered  in  vario-us  learned  collections.  Having 
thus  painfully  acquired  sufficient  Saxon,  a  fresh  obsta- 
cle opposed  him:  The  early  English  historians  had 
never  been  collected  or  published,  and  lay  hidden,  in 
manuscript  form,  among  the  neglected  treasures  of  the 
private  and  public  libraries.  Camden  pursued,  found, 
and  finally  published  an  edition  of  a  part  of  these 
writers  for  the  benefit  of  future  inquirers. 

Thus  Roman,  Saxon,  and  Norman,  had  conspired  to 


THE   BEITANNIA.  169 

perplex  the  zealous  student  but  liis  unyielding  energy 
finally  triumphed  over  them  all.  In  1586,  in  the  tenth 
year  from  its  commencement,  the  Britannia  appeared, 
with  a  dedication  to  Lord  Burleigh.  Camden  was 
about  thirty-six  when  he  published  the  first  and  imper- 
fect edition  of  his  great  work,  the  completion  of  which 
employed  the  remainder  of  his  life. 

The  Britannia,  the  offspring  of  so  much  patriotic  love 
and  such  untiring  ardor,  was  received  with  delight  by 
the  Elizabethan  public,  as  well  as  by  all  European 
scholars.  We  can  readily  imagine  with  what  joy  such 
intellects  as  Bacon,  Raleigh  or  Burleigh,  must  have 
hailed  the  appearance  of  such  a  work ;  it  sold  rapidly, 
and  in  three  years  passed  through  three  editions,  besides 
two  published  abroad.  Besides  a  wide  renown,  Cam- 
den  received,  in  consequence  of  his  literary  success, 
several  substantial  rewards.  Piers,  Bishop  of  Salisbury, 
in  1588  made  him  prebend  of  Iffercomb,  although  he 
had  never  taken  holy  orders ;  he  also  received  the 
degree  of  M. A.  from  his  University :  was  made  Head 
Master  of  Westminster  School  in  1593,  and  in  1597,  at 
the  solicitation  of  Sir  Fulke  Greville,  was  appointed 
Clarencieux  king-at-arms. 

Camden  exerted  a  wide  influence  upon  the  eminent 
intellects  of  his  time :  the  example  of  his  success  found 
many  imitators,  and  antiquities  became  the  favorite 
study  of  the  age.  His  vast  learning,  his  ardent  spirit, 
and  the  dignity  of  his  patriotic  emotions,  conspired  to 
place  him  at  the  head  of  a  school  unrivalled  in  the 

8 


170  CAMDEN'S  ANTIQUARIAN  FRIENDS. 

annals  of  England  for  great  acquirements  and  untiring 
labor.  The  highest  attainments  of  the  modern  scholar 
seem  feeble  when  compared  with  those  of  the  contem- 
poraries of  Camden,  and  even  Germany  can  hardly 
equal  the  achievements  of  those  strong  men  of  the  age 
of  Elizabeth  and  James  the  First.  Spelman,  Usher,  Cot- 
ton, Saville  and  Selden,  were  all  Camden's  friends,  liv- 
ing together  in  constant  correspondence,  cheering  each 
other  by  mutual  sympathy,  refusing  to  be  won  from 
their  studies  by  the  temptations  of  wealth  or  power ; 
and  forming  a  phalanx  of  unselfish  and  devoted  students 
such  as  the  world  can  hardly  hope  to  possess  again. 

Of  all  his  antiquarian  friends,  Sir  Robert  Cotton  was 
the  most  constant  and  devoted.  Himself  and  his  library 
were  said  to  be  Camden's  oracles.  Sir  Eobert  was  him- 
self one  of  the  best  antiquaries  of  the  age.  He  had  been 
knighted  by  James  I.,  and  was  often  consulted  by  him 
in  the  affairs  of  the  government.  He  shared,  however, 
in  those  liberal  opinions  which,  with  the  advance  of 
knowledge,  began  to  stir  the  British  mind  during  the 
reigns  of  James  I.  and  Charles  I.  and  was  sent  by  the 
latter  to  the  Tower ;  an  indignity  which  so  preyed  upon 
his  spirits  that  he  is  said  to  have  died  from  its  effect. 
Camden  often  accompanied  Sir  Eobert  in  antiquarian 
researches  through  the  island,  and  studied  with  him  in 
his  magnificent  library.  This  library,  which  was  im- 
proved by  their  mutual  efforts  and  researches,  after 
being  enlarged  by  the  son  and  grandson  of  Sir  Eobert, 
was  finally  deposited  in  the  British  Museum. 


SPELMAN   AND   USHER.  171 

Sir  Henry  Spelman,  another  famous  antiquarian,  and 
one  of  Camden's  intimate  circle,  was  also  a  man  of  vast 
and  peculiar  learning.  He  had  been  employed  in  the 
service  of  the  state,  as  men  of  ability  usually  were  in 
that  age,  but  at  fifty  resigned  his  employment,  to 
devote  the  remainder  of  his  life  to  literature.  His  vari- 
ous works,  but  little  known  to  the  public,  exist  as  great 
store-houses  from  which  inferior  intellects  plunder  and 
appropriate  at  pleasure. 

Another  of  Camden's  correspondents  was  Usher, 
Archbishop  of  Armagh.  Usher  had  all  the  peculiar 
traits  of  the  learned  men  of  the  time :  he  was  wholly 
devoted  to  study,  conceiving  every  other  occupation  to 
be  worthless,  and  contemptible ;  and  so  sincere  was  he 
in  this  conviction  that  he  resigned  his  whole  patrimony 
to  his  brothers  and  sisters  lest  it  might  prove  an  impedi- 
ment in  the  way  of  his  mental  progress.  Like  his  great 
contemporaries,  he  leaned  towards  liberality  in  politics, 
and  in  religion  was  accused  of  Puritanism.  His  library 
was,  for  that  age,  of  immense  size,  numbering  ten  thou- 
sand volumes :  he  was  many  years  younger  than  Cam- 
den,  and  lived  to  the  Civil  War ;  but  even  Cromwell 
appreciated  the  learning  of  the  studious  prelate,  and, 
when  he  died,  buried  him  with  great  pomp  in  West- 
minster Hall.  During  the  Civil  War,  when  it  seemed 
unsafe  for  him  to  remain  at  home,  Usher  was  invited  to 
a  professorship  at  Leyden,  and  was  even  offered  by 
Eichelieu  an  asylum  in  France,  with  the  free  exercise 
of  his  religion ;  but  he  resolutely  refused  all  invitations 
to  leave  his  native  island. 


172  HIS   WOEK   DOES   NOT   ESCAPE   CRITICISM. 

"With  such  friends,  and  supported  by  the  general  ad- 
miration of  his  countrymen,  Camden  could  not  but  be  con- 
tent. He  went  on  with  new  ardor  to  enlarge  and  improve 
his  Britannia.  The  employment  was  a  pleasant  one, 
however  laborious ;  and  the  early  passion,  which  had 
been  indulged  only  on  vacations  and  holidays,  he  was 
now  enabled  to  gratify  without  restraint.  His  appoint- 
ment as  king-at-arms  gave  him  a  sufficient  income, 
and  an  honorable  position ;  he  was  surrounded  by 
friends  and  admirers ;  and  his  name  was  repeated  with 
applause  in  all  the  courts  of  Europe. 

Such  prosperity  could  not  be  long  without  its  pains. 
A  book  appeared,  entitled  "  A  Discovery  of  certain 
Errors  published  in  print  in  the  much  commended 
Britannia :"  it  was  without  the  name  of  printer  or  book- 
seller, and  was  evidently  the  assault  of  a  concealed  and 
unscrupulous  enemy.  It  charged  Camden  with  gross 
plagiarism,  and  endeavored  to  convict  him  of  various 
serious  mistakes.  Its  author,  he  at  length  discovered  to 
be  Brooke,  the  York  herald,  who  had  been  an  aspirant 
for  the  place  of  Clarencieux ;  and  who,  when  Camden 
obtained  the  post,  had  taken  this  means  of  proving  his 
rival's  unfitness  for  the  place,  and  his  own  superior 
merit. 

A  few  errors,  no  doubt,  were  to  be  found  in  the 
Britannia,  as  Camden  ingenuously  confesses,  but  they 
were  not  to  be  discovered  by  so  superficial  a  writer  as 
Brooke.  Camden  showed  very  clearly,  in  his  reply, 
that  his  critic  had  made  an  error  in  every  instance 
where  he  pretended  to  have  discovered  one.  The 


GLOVER   AND   LELAND.  173 

charge  of  plagiarism  was  more  imposing:  Brooke 
charged  that  Camden  had  merely  copied  from  the 
unpublished  papers  of  two  antiquarians,  Glover  and 
Leland,  which  had  been  placed  in  his  hands. 

Glover  had  been  Somersetshire  herald:  he  was  deeply 
skilled  in  antiquities ;  but  had  died  early,  before  he 
had  been  able  to  prepare  anything  for  publication, 
leaving  behind  him  a  confused  mass  of  papers  which 
had  been  communicated  by  Lord  Burleigh  to  Camden, 
and  Camden  had  made  use  of  them  as  far  as  they 
served  his  purpose,  giving,  however,  all  due  credit  to 
Glover. 

Leland,  another  unfortunate  antiquary,  was  empow- 
ered by  Henry  YIH.,  in  1533,  to  search  the  libraries  of 
all  cathedrals  and  colleges,  for  the  materials  of  an  Itine- 
rary ;  and,  in  the  meantime,  was  directed  to  employ  a 
curate  to  discharge  the  duties  of  the  parish  of  which 
he  was  rector,  while  he  made  a  general  survey  of  Eng- 
land. He  was  an  ardent  student;  and,  having  made 
large  collections,  finally,  in  1545,  settled  in  London, 
with  the  design  of  compiling  his  discoveries  in  one 
vast  work.  He  proposed  to  devote  sixty  books  to  an 
account  of  the  different  counties ;  six  to  a  general  sur- 
vey of  the  British  Isles ;  and  three  to  an  account  of  the 
English  nobility  and  genealogies.  But,  unhappily, 
hardly  had  he  commenced  his  labor,  when  he  went 
mad :  the  vastness  of  the  work  he  had  undertaken,  it  is 
thought,  turned  his  brain.  He  died  insane,  leaving  a 
large  collection  of  papers,  of  which  Camden  made 


174:  CAMDEN'S  VARIOUS  WRITINGS. 

some  use;  but  which  gave  no  ground  for  the  charge 
brought  against  him.  The  hostile  criticism  of  Brooke 
therefore  soon  sank  into  neglect,  and  the  unlucky  herald 
sank  with  it. 

Camden's  life  was  a  succession  of  literary  labors  and 
triumphs.  While  master  of  "Westminster  School  he 
published  a  Greek  grammar,  which  had  occupied  his 
attention  for  twenty-two  years.  The  plan  proved  so 
excellent  that  it  was  at  once  adopted  in  all  the  public 
schools,  and  went  through  a  vast  number  of  editions. 

In  1600,  he  published  an  account  of  the  monuments 
and  history  of  Westminster  Abbey ;  and  soon  after  an 
edition  of  the  early  English  historians,  -dedicated  to  his 
friend,  Sir  Fulke  Greville.  He  is  said,  too,  to  have 
meditated  a  civil  history  of  England,  a  work  which,  had 
he  accomplished,  would  have  given  us  a  clearer  view  of 
the  early  English  than  any  succeeding  writer  has  been 
able  to  furnish. 

Upon  the  discovery  of  the  gunpowder  plot,  King 
James  was  anxious  that  a  correct  narrative  of  that 
remarkable  instance  of  religious  phrensy  should  be 
drawn  up  by  some  able  writer  to  serve  as  a  justification 
of  his  own  conduct  to  foreign  courts.  He  selected 
Camden  to  be  his  apologist,  and  Camden  performed  the 
task  with  his  usual  success. 

During  all  his  other  literary  avocations,  he  had  been 
constantly  enlarging  and  improving  his  chief  work.  In 
1607  he  published  the  complete  edition  of  the  Britannia. 
Time  had  only  served  to  strengthen  its  reputation  with 


HIS   LAST  WORK.  175 

the  public,  and  he  was  hailed  on  all  sides  as  the  Strabo, 
the  Yarro,  the  Pausanius  of  Britain. 

The  last  work  on  which  he  was  engaged  was  that  which 
gives  him  a  place  among  historians,  his  annals  of  Eliza- 
beth. Lord  Burleigh  had  first  suggested  the  design  of 
this  work  to  him  in  159T,  but,  although  he  commenced 
it  about  that  time,  the  death  of  Burleigh  the  next  year, 
and  that  of  the  queen  which  followed,  damped  the  ardor 
of  the  author,  and  he  temporarily  abandoned  the  design. 
He  was  now  engaged,  too,  in  completing  his  antiquarian 
researches,  and  had  little  time  to  devote  to  the  lesser 
object.  But  when  the  final  edition  of  the  Britannia  was 
published,  he  once  more  turned  with  all  his  wonted 
industry  and  zeal  to  record  the  exploits  of  the  great 
queen.  In  common  with  all  the  best  minds  of  the  time, 
Camden  looked  with  awe  and  love  to  his  tyrannical 
mistress,  not  ignorant  of  her  many  weaknesses,  but 
excusing  them  all  for  the  sake  of  her  bold  and  patriotic 
spirit.  His  work  derives  a  striking  interest  from  his 
ardent  admiration  for  Elizabeth.  From  1608  to  1615 
he  gave  all  his  attention  to  this  subject,  and  the  publi- 
cation of  his  first  volume  was  looked  for  with  eager 
expectation  by  the  court  and  the  public.  In  1615  it 
appeared,  and  was  highly  praised.  Selden  pronounced 
this  and  the  life  of  Henry  VII.,  by  Bacon,  the  only 
biographies  of  British  monarchs  worthy  of  their  theme. 

A  second  volume  was  ready  for  the  press  by  1617, 
but  Camden  prudently  resolved  that  it  should  not  appear 
until  after  his  death.  He  felt  the  danger  of  treating  of 


176  THE   SCHOLARS   OF   THE   AGE. 

characters  and  events  too  near  his  own  time,  and  had 
even  given  some  offence  by  his  first  volume,  particularly 
in  the  part  relating  to  the  unhappy  Queen  of  Scots. 
He  deposited  the  manuscript  of  the  second,  therefore, 
in  the  hands  of  a  friend,  who  retained  it  until  1625, 
when  it  at  length  appeared.  Another  of  his  literary 
labors  deserves  particular  mention :  a  journal  which  he 
had  kept  from  the  death  of  Elizabeth  to  the  close  of  his 
own  life,  and  which  he  particularly  intended  for  the  use 
of  succeeding  historians. 

By  frugality  he  had  gathered  a  considerable  property, 
for,  although  his  income  had  never  been  large,  his 
habits  were  always  simple  and  regular.  He  was  never 
ambitious.  Like  Usher  and  Spelman  he  preferred  a 
life  of  study  to  the  toils  and  danger  of  high  office. 

Avoiding  the  court  and  the  gay  circles  of  the  city, 
Camden  wisely  associated  almost  wholly  with  learned 
men.  The  scholars  of  that  time,  more  united  than  their 
descendants,  formed  a  peculiar  and  powerful  class ;  a 
nobility  of  the  intellect,  who  held  a  position  in  the  eyes 
of  the  world  more  illustrious*  and  conspicuous  than  that 
of  the  feudal  aristocracy.  They  addressed  each  other 
with  titles  of  admiration  which  appear,  in  the  present 
age,  a  strong  exaggeration;  to  each  other  they  were 
"  the  glory  of  their  time,"  "  the  brightest  stars  of  the 
age."  The  scholars  of  France  and  Germany,  acknow- 
ledging the  common  brotherhood,  no  sooner  landed  in 
England  than  they  hurried  to  feast  their  eyes  upon  its 
great  luminaries  of  learning.  "When  President  Brisson, 


THE   ADMIRATION  THEY   EXCITED.  17T 

the  French  ambassador,  came  over  to  negotiate  the 
marriage  of  Elizabeth  with  the  Duke  of  Anjou,  he 
hastened  to  pay  his  respects  to  Camden,  then  under 
thirty,  and  the  second  master  of  "Westminster  School. 
Upon  one  occasion  Camden  was  yisited  by  six  German 
noblemen,  who  begged  of  him  his  autograph  that  they 
might  carry  back  with  them  some  proof  of  having 
beheld  him.  Ortellius  always  addressed  him  in  terms 
of  singular  veneration  ;  and  the  learned  Gruter  sharply 
reproved  some  young  men  of  the  Palatinate,  who  had 
returned  from  England  without  having  "  consulted  its 
only  oracle  and  beheld  its  brightest  star;" — they  had 
neglected  to  call  on  Camden. 

In  this  apparent  exaggeration  there  was  much  truth 
as  well  as  honest  enthusiasm.  The  learned  man  of  that 
day  was  acknowledged  by  his  contemporaries  to  be  an 
oracle  and  a  star.  Literature  had  but  lately  been 
renewed.  "Not  many  years  had  passed  since  the  world 
had  been  almost  as  barbarously  ignorant  as  before  the 
discovery  of  letters.  Even  yet  the  possessors  of  know- 
ledge were  few  and  highly  prized :  they  were  invited 
from  court  to  court  as  rare  and  honored  visitors,  their 
fame  was  sounded  from  land  to  land,  and  their  names 
and  memories  were  treasured  as  valuable  possessions  in 
their  native  country. 

The  power  of  knowledge,  too,  was  far  more  strongly 
felt  in  that  early  age  than  now ;  for  it  had  just  effected 
a  striking  change  in  the  physical  condition  of  mankind. 
Under  its  influence  Europe  had  been  recovered  from 

8* 


178  THEIR   INFLUENCE. 

barbarism.  Men  of  learning  had  everywhere  been  the 
harbingers  of  the  new  era,  and  wherever  they  appeared, 
civilization  and  refinement  had  followed  closely  in  their 
steps.  They  seemed  to  carry  a  blessing  with  them,  and 
by  recalling  the  inventions  of  the  past,  gave  rise  to  all 
physical  advancement.  They  pictured  to  the  half- 
civilized  nobility  of  France  and  England  the  refinements 
and  comforts  of  Roman  and  Grecian  life:  they  com- 
pared the  luxurious  villas  of  Cicero  and  the  palaces  of 
the  Empire  with  the  rush-covered  halls  of  the  Tudors 
and  the  Plantagenets :  they  showed  how,  while  the 
haughty  Elizabeth  was  clad  in  coarse  woolen,  the  Roman 
nobles  had  reclined  on  couches  of  silk,  and  a  whole 
Roman  audience  been  covered  by  a  silken  canopy: 
they  compared  the  ill-built,  unsightly  habitations  of  the 
modern  merchant  with  those  convenient  dwellings  which 
had  lined  the  streets  of  Rome :  they  contrasted  the  ease 
of  ancient  manners  with  the  unpolished  demeanor  of 
Norman  barons  and  Saxon  earls:  they  compared  the 
luxurious  feasts  of  Sallust  or  Lucullus  with  the  coarse 
revelry  of  the  baronial  hall :  they  described  the  broad 
roads  that  penetrated  every  part  of  Italy,  and  pointed 
with  contempt  to  the  narrow  trackways  that  in  England 
were  beset  by  sloughs  and  endangered  by  robbers :  they 
showed  how  literature  had  crowned  ancient  civilization 
with  a  radiance  that  was  immortal ;  how  eminent  poets 
and  historians  had  alone  preserved  the  glory  of  their 
contemporaries  from  oblivion ;  how,  but  for  literature, 
the  past  of  Greece  and  Rome  would  have  been  as 


THEIR  EFFECT  UPON  THE  AGE.          179 

unknown  to  the  modern  scholar  as  was  the  history  of 
Media  and  Assyria ;  how  literature  had  once  been  the 
employment  and  the  solace  of  emperors  and  warriors ; 
how  knowledge  had  been  the  source  of  all  national 
advancement,  and  had  lifted  the  people  of  antiquity  to 
an  excellence  in  arts,  arms  and  domestic  comfort,  that 
should  make  the  half-barbarous  moderns  blush  for  their 
own  degeneracy. 

By  such  pictures  did  the  learned  man  of  the  middle 
ages  stir  the  minds  of  his  contemporaries ;  every  fact 
that  he  rescued  from  the  darkness  of  the  past  threw 
light  upon  the  present,  and  hastened  the  progress  of 
physical  and  mental  improvement.  By  showing  what 
Europe  had  been,  he  proved  of  what  it  was  yet  capable. 
He  taught  the  rude  descendants  of  the  Gauls  and  the 
Germans  to  emulate  the  refinement  of  their  ancient 
masters  the  Romans.  He  taught  them  how  to  build 
comfortable  dwellings,  to  provide  good  roads,  to  renew 
the  forgotten  inventions  of  ancient  art.  He  was  the 
oracle  to  whom  kings  applied  for  instruction  in  govern- 
ment and  manners ;  the  star  that  guided  the  progress 
of  mankind ;  and  it  was  not  unnatural,  therefore,  that 
he  should  be  looked  upon  with  peculiar  veneration ; 
that  he  should  be  prized  as  a  valuable  possession,  and 
treated  as  a  superior  by  the  rude  noble,  and  ignorant 
monarch. 

This  feeling  of  veneration  for  learning  still  lingered 
in  the  reign  of  Elizabeth,  although  sensibly  declined. 
Learned  men,  however,  were  the  last  to  become  con- 


180   THE   VENERATION    ONCE   FELT    FOR   THEM    DECLINES. 

vinced  that  it  was  actually  passing  away.  They  still 
kept  up  in  words  the  shadow  of  their  former  greatness  ; 
and  bestowed  upon  each  other  epithets  of  admiration 
which,  to  the  modern  ear,  seem  extravagant  and  even 
ridiculous.  Civilization,  however,  had  now  ceased  to 
depend  upon  mere  classical  learning  for  its  support.  It 
had  already,  in  some  arts,  outstripped  the  skill  of  the 
ancients.  Its  navigators  had  attained  a  daring  emi- 
nence more  than  Phoenician ;  its  geographers  had 
demonstrated  many  of  the  errors  of  Ptolemy;  its 
manufactures  were  beginning  to  rival  the  fabrics  of 
Tyre ;  and  a  new  literature  had  sprung  up  of  which 
Shakspeare,  Bacon,  and  Spenser,  were  the  first  and 
noblest  fruits. 

Learning,  too,  in  the  age  of  Camden,  ceasing  to  be 
wholly  classical,  began  to  assume  a  new  vocation ;  it 
aimed  to  collect  facts  rather  from  actual  observation 
than  from  diligent  study.  It  grew  creative  and  origi- 
nal ;  and,  since  the  time  of  Bacon,  learning  has  gov- 
erned the  progress  of  mankind  not  by  holding  up  to  its 
view  the  great  Past,  but  the  greater  Future ;  not  by 
making  him  a  servile  imitator,  but  by  urging  him  on  to 
new  creations  and  fresh  progress. 

One  of  the  most  valued  of  Camden's  friends  was  the 
sickly,  studious  and  excellent  De  Thou,  "  the  glory  of 
France  and  the  Prince  of  Historians,"  as  Camden,  in  the 
ardor  of  his  admiration,  was  wont  to  address  him. 
They  held  frequent  correspondence  and  often  assisted 
each  other  in  their  common  studies.  Pe  Thou,  engaged 


CAMDEN   CORRESPONDS   WITH   DE   THOU.  181 

upon  his  history  of  his  own  times,  applied  to  Camden 
for  aid;  Camden  recommended  him  to  use  great 
caution  in  treating  of  the  history  of  Mary  Stuart. 
This  caution,  however,  did  not  prevent  De  Thou's 
relation  of  that  episode  from  giving  great  offence  to 
King  James,  and  Camden  was  fixed  upon  by  the  king 
to  write  a  refutation  of  his  friend's  narrative.  His 
"  animadversions  "  on  that  part  of  De  Thou's  history 
show  the  falseness  of  many  of  his  statements.  Their 
difference  upon  this  point,  however,  did  not  interrupt 
their  friendship.  De  Thou  wrote  to  Camden,  in 
defence  of  his  own  narrative,  asserting  that  he  had 
related  nothing  except  on  the  authority  of  persons  from 
Scotland,  who  had  been  eye-witnesses  of  the  facts,  and 
had  laid  no  further  stress  upon  Buchanan's  account 
except  as  it  had  been  confirmed  by  them  ;  he  requests 
his  friend,  therefore,  to  clear  him  at  court  from  the 
suspicion  of  being  hostile  to  either  England  or  Scot- 
land. 

London  formed  the  centre  of  learning  under  James 
I.,  and  here  were  gathered  the  chief  scholars  of  the 
nation.  The  feeble  king,  without  any  elevated  taste 
for  literature,  was  still  fond  of  good  scholarship,  and 
capable  of  discerning  it.  His  own  folly  was  mingled 
with  a  real  love  for  learning  and  with  a  considerable 
share  of  information.  The  only  persons  upon  whose 
sympathies  he  had  any  claim,  in  his  own  time,  were 
scholars,  and  his  only  pretension  to  the  respect  of 
posterity  is  that  he  was  the  last  learned  monarch  of 


182  TIIE   FIRST   BRITISH   ANTIQUARIAN    SOCIETY. 

Great  Britain.  Yet  his  idle  suspicion,  about  this  time, 
broke  up  one  of  the  few  valuable  institutions  of  Ins 
reign,  the  first  British  Antiquarian  Society. 

The  learned  men  of  the.  metropolis  had  agreed  to 
meet  weekly,  for  the  better  prosecution  of  their  favorite 
study,  and  Sir  Henry  Spelman  has  left  the  following 
account  of  the  origin  of  this  society :  "  About  forty 
years  ago,"  he  says,  "  divers  gentlemen  of  London, 
studious  of  antiquities,  framed  themselves  into  a  college 
of  antiquarians,  appointing  to  meet  every  Friday 
weekly,  in  term,  at  a  place  agreed  upon,  and,  for  learn- 
ing's sake,  to  confer  upon  some  questions  in  that  faculty, 
and  to  sup  together.  The  place,  after  a  meeting  or  two, 
became  certain  at  Darby  House,  where  the  herald's 
office  is  kept,  and  two  questions  were  propounded  to 
be  handled  at  the  next  that  followed;  so  that  every 
man  had  a  se'night  to  advise  upon  them,  and  then 
deliver  his  opinion.  That  which  seems  material  was  by 
one  of  the  company  (chosen  for  the  purpose)  to  be 
entered  in  a  book,  so  it  might  remain  to  posterity.  The 
society  increased  daily,  many  persons  of  worth  as  well 
noble  as  learned  joining  themselves  to  it." 

After  having  met  regularly  for  twenty  years,  this 
society  was  for  a  time  broken  up :  "  as  all  good  uses 
commonly  decline,"  adds  Sir  Henry,  but  in  1614  it  was 
revived.  "  There  meet,"  continues  Spelman,  "  Sir  James 
Ley  Knight,  then  attorney  of  the  Court  of  Wards,  since 
Earl  of  Marlebury  and  Lord  Treasurer  of  England,  Sir 
Robert  Cotton,  knight  and  baronet,  Sir  John  Davis, 


ITS  MEETINGS   AKE   SUSPENDED.  183 

Sir  Richard  St.  George,  Mr.  Hackwell,  queen's  solicitor, 
Mr.  Camden,  then  Clarencieux,  and  myself.  Of  these 
the  lord  treasurer,  Sir  Robert  Cotton,  Mr.  Camden 
and  myself  had  been  of  the  original  foundation,  and 
were  all  then  living  of  that  sort,  to  my  knowledge, 
saving  Sir  John  Doderidge,  knight,  justice  of  the  King's 
Bench." 

Several  of  the  antiquarians,  however,  were  known  to 
entertain  liberal  opinions,  and  King  James  grew 
jealous  of  the  designs  of  the  associates.  He  feared 
that  they  might  discuss  other  subjects  besides  antiqui- 
ties in  their  weekly  meetings,  and  that  their  learned 
inquiries  might  prove  no  support  ta  his  cherished 
prerogative.  His  dislike  towards  their  association 
becoming  known  to  the  members,  they  thought  it 
prudent  to  cease  their  attendance.  A  part  of  the 
transactions  of  this  society  are  yet  preserved  in  the 
Bodleian  Library  at  Oxford. 

Camden  was  now  grown  old.  At  sixty  he  had 
retired  to  a  house  at  Cheshurst,  about  ten  miles  from 
London,  and  the  closing  years  of  his  life  were  devoted 
to  his  account  of  the  reign  of  Elizabeth.  About  two 
years  before  his  death,  he  grew  incapable  of  any 
literary  labor  ;  but  his  passion  for  antiquarian  research 
having  no  way  declined,  he  resolved  to  devote  a  large 
portion  of  his  fortune  to  the  encouragement  of  that 
study  among  his  countrymen.  He  founded,  therefore, 
a  professorship  of  history  at  Oxford,  where,  in  early 
life,  he  had  perhaps  felt  the  want  of  direction  and  aid 
in  his  own  historical  studies.  On  the  17th  of  May 


184:  HIS    DEATH    AND   FUNERAL. 

1622,  Dr.  Piers,  the  vice-chancellor,  announced  to  the 
University  that  Mr.  Camden  had  founded  a  History 
Lecture,  and  had  set  apart  for  its  support  the  consider- 
able sum  of  £140  yearly,  secured  upon  the  income  of 
his  manor  of  Bexley  in  Kent.  The  University 
returned  him  a  vote  of  thanks,  and  Degory  "Whear, 
nominated  by  the  founder,  became  the  first  professor 
and  was  author  of  several  works. 

Camden  died  soon  after,  November  9th,  1623,  in  the 
seventy-third  year  of  his  age.  Having  never  married, 
from  the  fear  of  interruption  to  his  studies,  he  left  the 
remainder  of  his  property  in  charity  to  the  poor  and  in 
legacies  to  his  relations.  He  gave  his  books  of  heraldry 
to  the  herald  office,  and  his  manuscripts  and  printed 
books  to  Sir  Robert  Cotton ;  but  by  some  confusion  in 
the  terms  of  his  will,  the  printed  books,  designed  for  the 
Cottonian  collection,  were  seized  upon  and  removed  to 
the  library  of  Westminster. 

He  was  buried  at  Westminster  Abbey,  with  great 
pomp,  the  whole  college  of  heralds,  and  great  numbers 
of  the  nobility  and  gentry,  attending.  The  procession 
was  met  at  the  doors  of  the  abbey  by  the  dignitaries  of 
the  church,  arrayed  in  their  priestly  robes ;  a  funeral 
sermon  was  preached  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  Sutton,  and  then 
the  great  antiquarian  was  laid  in  the  South  Aisle,  not 
far  from  the  tombs  of  the  learned  Causobon  and  the  poet 
Chaucer.  A  white  marble  monument  was  raised  over 
his  grave,  and  upon  it  stood  his  effigy,  bearing  in  its 
hand  a  book,  inscribed  "  Britannia/' 

His  life  had  been  long  and  well  spent.     He  was  a 


HE  NEVER  TRAVELLED  ABROAD.          185 

member  of  the  Church  of  England,  a  man  of  great  sin- 
cerity, consistency  and  goodness.  His  friends  loved 
him  steadily  and  delighted  in  his  society.  "  I  am  sure 
you  may  make  me  a  happy  man  without  any  discontent 
to  yourself,"  wrote  the  learned  Sir  Henry  Saville,  endea- 
voring to  persuade  him  to  come  and  live  with  him  in 
his  house  at  Eton  College.  And  this  warmth,  of  feeling 
runs  through  all  his  correspondence  with  his  friends. 

Although  possessing  many  admirers  abroad,  who 
would  have  received  him  with  uncommon  distinction 
and  regard,  yet  Camden  never  travelled.  His  only  jour- 
neys were  made  along  the  quiet  streams  and  among  the 
legendary  spots  of  his  native  island.  He  preferred  to 
linger  in  obscure  haunts,  afar  from  the  busy  capital, 
where  he  could  mark  at  leisure  the  windings  of  river, 
the  hidden  ruin,  the  Roman  camp,  or  the  relics  of 
palaces  and  towers  that  had  been  built  in  the  days  of 
William  the  Conqueror.  To  a  person  so  simple  in  taste 
and  so  devoted  to  one  pursuit,  the  glitter  of  Paris  or  the 
learned  solemnity  of  Leyden  had  little  attraction. 

The  chief  excellence  of  Camden's  writings  is  their 
truthfulness  and  labor.  His  Britannia  is  one  of  those 
productions  of  an  industrious  intellect  that  startle 
by  their  vastness:  like  Johnson's  Dictionary  or  Gib- 
bon's History,  it  seems  almost  incredible  that  a  single 
mind  could  have  produced  so  extensive  a  work.  His 
motive,  Camden  asserts,  in  entering  upon  this  under- 
taking, was  simply  a  love  for  his  native  country,  and  a 
desire  to  revive  the  memory  of  its  early  inhabitants,  nor 


186  HIS    PATRIOTIC    ARDOR. 

is  there  any  reason  to  doubt  tlie  truth  of  his  patriotic 
professions.  In.  the  preface  he  thus  relates  the  origin 
of  the  work :  "The  great  restorer  of  the  old  geography, 
Abraham  Ortellius,  very  earnestly  solicited  me,  thirty 
years  ago,  to  acquaint  the  world  with  Britain,  that 
ancient  island."  And  thirty  years  of  enthusiastic  and 
ceaseless  labor  had  alone  enabled  Camden  to  fulfill  his 
cherished  design.  "  I  submit  them "  (his  labors),  he 
continues,  "  with  the  greatest  deference  and  veneration, 
to  men  of  learning  and  sincerity,  who,  if  they  do  not 
approve,  at  least,  I  hope,  will  pardon  what  I  have 
attempted  out  of  the  zealous  love  I  profess  for  my 
native  country." 

Such  was  the  patriotic  ardor  of  Camden.  The  ancient 
poets  wrote  in  the  hope  of  immortality,  and  the  modern 
author  toils  for  a  pecuniary  return ;  but  the  venerable 
antiquarian  was  possessed  by  a  rare  and  unselfish  con- 
viction. He  believed  that  his  long  labors  were  destined 
to  add  to  the  glory  of  his  native  land,  and  this  simple 
faith  gives  vigor  to  all  his  descriptions.  With  him  there 
is  no  coldness,  tameness  or  weariness.  His  subject  is  to 
him  a  perpetual  joy,  and  he  views  his  beloved  island  as 
a  graceful  form  whose  charms  he  is  bound  to  delineate 
to  the  world — every  line  must  be  imitated  and  every 
varying  color  caught.  He  describes  every  shire,  pur- 
sues every  river  to  its  source,  and  candidly  allows  that 
there  may  be  some  small  towns  which  have  escaped  his 
accurate  survey. 

Tradition  is  Camden's  particular  delight.    He  rejoices 


LEGENDARY   LORE   OF   THE   BRITANNIA.  1ST 

to  relate  how  the  Stour  flows  by  Chelham  and  Fulham, 
where,  "'tis  a  current  report  among  the  inhabitants, 
that  Julius  Caesar  encampt  here  in  his  second  expedition 
against  the  Britains,  and  thence  it  was  called  Fulham, 
as  if  one  should  say,  Julius'  station  or  house."  He 
relates  the  following  legend  of  Blackmore  Forest :  "At 
the  rise  of  the  Frome,  where  the  soil  is  most  fruitful, 
Blackmore  Forest,  once  so  well  wooded  but  now  bare, 
affords  excellent  hunting.  This  is  commonly  called 
"  The  Forest  of  the  White  Hart."  The  name  arose  from 
a  tradition  that  King  Henry  II.,  while  hunting  here, 
among  several  deer  which  he  had  run  down,  beheld  a 
milk-white  hind.  He  resolved  to  spare  it.  Unfor- 
tunately, soon  after,  De  La  Lande,  a  gentleman  of  the 
county,  with  some  others,  pursued  and  took  it.  The 
king  heard  of  its  fate  and  was  greatly  enraged.  He 
imposed  a  fine  upon  all  who  had  been  engaged  in  the 
act,  and  the  land  in  the  neighborhood,  to  this  day,  pays 
into  the  Exchequer  an  annual  fine  called  "  White  Hart 
Silver." 

When  Camden  comes  to  describe  London,  he  revels 
in  legends  and  antiquarian  lore.  His  patriotism  will 
not  allow  him  to  deny  the  tradition  that  Brute  the 
Second,  nephew  of  Eneas,  was  the  founder;  but,  although 
not  perfectly  assured  of  this  fact,  he  is  certain  that  who- 
ever was  its  builder,  it  began  with  a  lucky  omen.  He 
asserts  that  it  was  as  prosperous,  during  the  Roman, 
Saxon  and  Norman  rule,  as  any  other  city  in  England, 
scarcely  ever  falling  into  any  great  calamity.  He 


188  HIS   MINUTE   DESCRIPTION    OF   ENGLAND. 

relates,  exultingly,  that  when  the  Franks  were  approach- 
ing to  plunder  it,  the  river  Thames,  ever  the  true  friend 
of  London,  enveloped  in  its  fogs  a  band  of  Romans,  who 
came  to  rescue  the  city,  and  conducted  them  in  safety 
to  its  walls.  The  great  Constantine,  he  contends,  at  the 
request  of  Helena,  his  mother,  had  built  around  it  a  wall 
of  hewn  stone,  of  which  many  fragments  yet  remained, 
but  the  Londoners,  when  this  wall  fell  through  age, 
refused  to  repair  it,  despising  all  fenced  cities,  like  the 
old  Lacedaemonians,  and  trusting  for  defence  rather  to 
their  own  courage.  Ludgate,  Newgate  and  Cripplegate, 
he  thought,  were  all  relics  of  the  seven  gates  that  once 
faced  the  walls  of  Constantine. 

In  this  manner  Camden  passes  over  England,  describ- 
ing all  the  leading  traits  of  the  country  and  showing  a 
close  acquaintance  with  the  various  races,  who  had  suc- 
cessively occupied  its  domains.  "Whatever  he  saw  him- 
self is  told  accurately  and  well ;  the  legends  he  gives  as 
he  hears  them,  with  evidently  a  strong  inclination  to 
maintain  their  truth. 

Since  Camden's  time,  the  little  island,  which  he  so 
enthusiastically  loved,  has  become  the  ruling  power  of 
the  globe.  The  descendants  of  his  countrymen  have 
built  up  the  greatest  empire  and  the  greatest  republic 
the  world  has  yet  beheld.  They  have  engrossed  to 
themselves  all  political  and  religious  liberty ;  they  have 
planted  in  every  part  of  the  earth  the  germs  of  civiliza- 
tion and  progress.  For  the  final  causes  of  these  great 
events,  we  must  look  to  the  Britannia.  There  are  illus- 


189 

trated  the  climate  and  soil  of  ancient  England,  the 
strange  blending  of  discordant  races  which  took  place 
upon  its  bosom,  and  traits  of  whose  conflicting  natures 
may  yet  be  traced  in  the  habits  of  their  descendants ; 
the  long  struggle  which  took  place  before  these  opposing 
races  could  be  blended  into  one  united  people ;  the  con- 
flict of  opinions  which  followed  the  cessation  of  military 
violence ;  the  reaction  of  Saxon  liberty  against  ]STorman 
feudalism ;  and  almost  every  trait  that  tended  to  form 
the  national  character  of  Englishmen. 

Camden's  "Annales  Rerum  Anglicarum,"  his  only 
purely  historical  work,  has  met  with  general  favor. 
Hume  thought  it  the  best  historical  production  that  had 
yet  been  composed  by  any  Englishman,  and  Selden  pro- 
nounced it  equal  to  the  biography  of  Henry  YH.,  by 
Bacon.  It  pleased  the  author's  contemporaries,  and  has 
not  been  wholly  forgotten  by  posterity.  Yet  the  "  An 
nals "  want  the  warmth,  zeal  and  peculiar  inspiration 
of  the  Britannia.  Camden  was  an  antiquarian  rather 
than  a  historian,  and  was  better  fitted  to  collect  the 
materials  for  historical  composition  than  to  produce  a 
powerful  and  engaging  narrative. 


EDWAKD  HYDE,  EAEL  OF  CLARENDON. 

CLARENDON'S  life  was  one  long  error.  His  master 
passion  was  a  love  of  literature ;  but  lie  chose  to  crush 
the  impulse  of  nature  beneath  a  haughty  and  mis- 
placed ambition.  He  left  his  quiet  study  and  the  gifted 
company  of  authors  with  whom  he  had  mingled  in 
early  youth,  to  enter  the  rude  arena  of  the  law  and 
the  struggle  for  court  favor.  His  ambition  was  speed- 
ily gratified.  He  became  a  lawyer  of  remarkable 
eminence,  and  a  statesman  unequalled  in  power. 
Charles  I.  made  him  his  chosen  friend  and  counsellor ; 
he  became  the  guardian  of  Charles  II.  in  his  exile,  and 
the  chief  of  his  ministry  at  the  Restoration,  and  at 
length  he  reached  a  position  above  every  other  subject 
of  the  realm.  The  heir  of  the  crown  married  his 
daughter,  and  his  descendants  were  destined  to  sit  upon 
the  throne  of  the  Tudors  and  Plantagenets.  But  sud- 
denly he  fell.  His  royal  connections  availed  him 
nothing.  He  was  driven  out  of  England  by  the  general 
hatred  of  his  countrymen  and  the  ungrateful  policy  of 
his  king;  and  the  close  of  a  life,  once  so  prosperous, 


HIS  ESTIMATE  OF  HAPPINESS.  191 

was  passed  in  a  provincial  city  of  France,  in  poverty, 
neglect  and  contempt. 

Strangely  mistaken  is  the  common  estimate  of  good 
fortune,  if  Clarendon  is  to  be  believed.  He  names  in 
his  memoirs  the  three  happiest  periods  of  his  life.  He 
passes  with  contempt  those  hours  which  had  been  gilded 
with  court  favor,  and  employed  in  the  highest  exercises 
of  ambition;  when,  with  Falkland  and  Colpepper,  he 
had  directed  the  counsels  of  the  first  Charles ;  or,  when 
in  the  joyous  hours  of  the  Restoration,  amid  titles, 
wealth,  power  and  royal  connections,  he  stood  next  in 
station  to  his  sovereign,  and  might  well  amuse  his  leisure 
by  preparing  for  his  family  a  palace  worthy  of  royalty. 
Such  moments  Clarendon  forgets  to  dwell  upon.  Bril- 
liant as  they  were  with  all  the  splendor  of  successful 
ambition,  they  were  not  happy:  their  joy  was  hollow. 
His  nature  claimed  a  higher  gratification;  and,  amid 
the  pomps  and  pleasures  of  the  world,  sighed  for  some- 
thing better. 

The  happy  periods  of  his  life,  he  asserts,  were  three : 
one,  when  a  fugitive  from  the  rebels  in  the  Isle  of 
Jersey,  he  commenced  his  great  work — the  History  of 
the  Rebellion;  one,  when,  in  1649,  he  lingered  in 
poverty  and  neglect  at  Madrid,  and  felt  amid  the  works 
of  Yelasquez  and  Murillo  a  love  of  art  grow  up  within 
him,  almost  equal  in  strength  to  his  love  of  letters ;  and 
finally,  when,  fallen  and  deserted,  his  old  passion  for 
literature  and  his  dreams  of  immortal  fame  came  to 
solace  his  exile  at  Montpelier,  and  to  crown  his  old  age 
with  a  joy  that  was  denied  to  his  prosperous  youth. 


192  THE   HYDES. 

The  Hydes  were  an  old  family  of  Wiltshire,  who  had 
possessed  an  estate  there  since  the  Conquest.  Respect- 
able, however,  as  they  were,  they  still  occupied  a 
station  in  the  micfdle  walks  of  life,  nor  was  there  any- 
thing in  their  condition  that  foretold  the  great  fate  that 
awaited  them.  Little  could  Laurence  Hyde,  the  grand- 
father of  Clarendon,  a  clerk  in  the  Exchequer,  foresee 
that  two  of  his  great-grandchildren  were  to  be  queens 
of  England !  Laurence  Hyde  left  a  good  estate  which 
he  settled  upon  his  wife,  in  whose  prudence  he  had 
great  confidence,  to  be  used  by  her  for  the  benefit  of 
his  four  sons  and  four  daughters.  His  children  were 
noted  throughout  the  county  for  their  excellent  dispo- 
sitions, and  for  living  together  in  constant  harmony,  in 
the  practice  of  the  old  English  virtues,  of  order  and 
content. 

Henry,  his  third  son,  the  father  of  Clarendon,  was 
educated  for  the  bar ;  but,  preferred  to  pass  the  earlier 
portion  of  his  life  until  his  thirtieth  year  in  travelling 
upon  the  continent ;  he  then  returned  to  England,  and 
married.  He  possessed  considerable  property;  was  a 
quiet,  plain  man,  and  lived  contentedly  at  Dinton,  in 
Wilts,  esteemed  by  his  neighbors  as  a  peacemaker  and 
a  good  man.  He  served  in  Parliament  during  Eliza- 
beth's time;  but,  upon  her  death,  lived  wholly  upon 
his  county  estate,  never  visiting  London,  partly  from  a 
love  for  retirement,  and  partly  from  motives  of  frugal- 
ity. Another  brother,  Sir  Nicholas  Hyde,  was  a  lawyer 
of  eminence,  and  became  chief  justice  of  the  King's 
Bench.  Henry  Hyde  left  four  sons  and  five  daughters. 


CLARENDON  ENTEES  OXFORD.  193 

Edward,  the  future  chancellor,  was  born  at  Dinton, 
February  18th,  1608.  He  was  educated  until  thirteen 
years  of  age  by  the  vicar  of  the  parish,  and  was  then 
sent  to  the  University.  The  younger  son  of  a  family  of 
moderate  wealth,  he  must  rely  upon  his  talents  for 
advancement.  He  went  up  to  Oxford  with  the  hope  of 
being  elected  to  a  scholarship  at  Magdalen,  and  was  pro- 
vided with  a  letter  from  King  James  to  Dr.  Langton,  the 
head  of  the  college,  recommending  his  election.  By  some 
informality  he  failed  to  obtain  the  place,  at  that  time,  but 
the  secretary  of  state  having  rebuked  the  principal  for 
not  obeying  the  king's  letter,  he  was  elected  to  fill  the 
next  vacancy.  None  having  occurred  for  a  whole  year, 
Hyde  was  by  that  time  become  an  only  son,  his  elder 
brother  having  died,  and  he  was  soon  after  sent  by  his 
father  to  the  Inns  of  Court  to  study  law,  his  uncle, 
Nicholas  Hyde,  being  then  treasurer  of  the  society. 
He  left  at  the  University  the  character  of  a  young  man 
of  talent  rather  than  of  industry,  and  of  having  been 
led  by  the  example  of  his  brother,  into  irregular  habits, 
he  speaks  of  his  removal  from  Oxford  as  having  been  a 
most  fortunate  event. 

At  sixteen  he  was  threatened  with  consumption,  and 
returning  to  Dinton,  passed  a  year  with  his  father  for 
the  recovery  of  his  health.  Nor  did  he  at  the  close  of 
that  period  return  with  much  satisfaction  to  the  study 
of  his  profession.  He  confesses,  in  his  memoirs,  that  at 
this  period  of  his  life  he  loved  literature  better  than 
law,  and  was  particularly  fond  of  the  Roman  authors. 

9 


194:  HE    MAKKIES. 

He  had  also  made  some  dangerous  acquaintances 
among  military  men,  and  growing  too  fond  of  their 
society,  shared  in  their  dissipations.  Yet  he  thought 
afterwards,  that  he  had  learned  something  from  these 
associates.  His  uncle  seems  to  have  carefully  watched 
over  his  law  studies,  and  every  night  spent  some  time  in 
questioning  him  upon  what  he  had  read  during  the  day. 

While  travelling  the  circuit  with  Sir  Nicholas,  in 
1628,  he  fell  ill  of  the  smallpox  at  Cambridge,  and  lay 
for  a  long  time  in  great  danger.  Another  misfortune 
soon  after  befell  him ;  his  uncle,*  from  whose  patronage 
in  his  profession  he  must  have  hoped  to  profit,  caught 
the  jail  fever  from  a  prisoner  on  trial  before  him  and 
died. 

But  a  new  motive  to  exertion  proved  more  useful  to 
the  young  lawyer  than  hope  of  patronage.  He  had 
fallen  in  love  with  a  young  lady  of  great  beauty  but  of 
small  fortune,  the  daughter  of  Sir  George  Ayloffe.  He 
now  determined  to  apply  himself  with  undivided  ardor 
to  his  profession ;  and  having  married,  became  con- 
nected with  many  of  the  best  families  of  England.  He 
ever  recurs  with  a  touching  melancholy  to  this  brief 
period  of  his  early  marriage.  But  his  happiness  was 
soon  destroyed.  His  beautiful  wife  and  their  unborn 
child  died  when  they  had  been  but  six  months  married. 
Overwhelmed  with  grief,  Hyde,  in  his  despair,  thought 
of  flying  across  the  seas,  into  some  foreign  land,  to 
abandon  himself  to  his  melancholy. 

He  found,  however,  a  more  effectual  relief  in  devot- 


IIE   IS   PRESENTED   TO   LAUD.  195 

ing  himself  to  his  profession,  and  when  three  years  had 
passed  away,  since  the  death  of  his  first  wife,  he  began 
to  look  round  for  another.  One  requisite  which  he  now 
demanded  in  the  lady  was  a  fortune,  and  this  he  seems 
to  have  found,  united  with  many  excellences,  in  the 
daughter  of  Sir  Thomas  Aylesbury,  master  of  requests, 
to  whom  he  was  married  in  1632.  For  thirty-five  years 
this  lady  shared  his  varying  fortunes,  having  died  not 
long  before  his  flight  to  the  continent.  About  the 
time  of  his  marriage  he  lost  his  excellent  parent,  "  the 
best  father,  companion,  and  friend  that  ever  was." 

Hyde  soon  after  made  a  less  useful  acquaintance,  and 
one  whose  unhappy  influence  led  to  the  chief  errors 
of  his  future  career.  Archbishop  Laud  was  now 
endeavoring  to  engage  the  court  and  the  nobility  in 
forcing  his  own  narrow  and  bigoted  opinions  upon 
the  people.  His  chief  aim  seems  to  have  been  to 
intimidate,  and,  if  possible,  to  extirpate  the  Puritans,  a 
sect  who  he  declared,  if  not  suppressed,  would  one  day 
"  set  the  kingdom  in  a  flame."  Instead  of  seeking  to 
guide  and  soften  the  violence  of  the  new  Reformers, 
Laud  excited  their  zeal  to  madness  by  bringing  their 
leaders  to  the  pillory  and  the  jail ;  he  endeavored  to 
exalt  the  power  of  the  church  to  a  height  to  which  it 
had  never  before  aspired,  and  enforced  unity  of  doc-' 
trine  with  a  pitiless  and  unsparing  severity.  Yet  Laud, 
in  all  matters  except  church  government,  was  honest, 
laborious,  and  prudent.  Having  lately  been  appointed 
a  commissioner  of  the  treasury,  he  was  desirous  to 


196  HIS  BUSINESS   INCREASES. 

qualify  himself  for  the  place  by  proper  inquiries  into 
the  laws  of  trade.  Hyde,  already  much  employed  by 
the  merchants,  was  introduced  by  an  eminent  member 
of  that  body  to  Laud,  as  a  man  well  versed  in  mercan- 
tile affairs.  The  archbishop,  pleased  with  his  peculiar 
mental  qualities,  and  probably  with  the  rigidness  of  his 
doctrinal  opinions,  became  his  patron  and  constant  sup- 
porter, and  so  recommended  him  to  the  judges  of 
Westminster,  that  Hyde  gained  speedily  what  in  that 
day  was  the  chief  reliance  of  the  lawyer,  the  favor  of 
the  bench. 

Business  now  came  in  upon  him  rapidly.  He  was  one 
of  the  most  successful  practitioners  at  the  bar;  his 
acquaintance  enlarged ;  and  he  became  known  not  only 
to  many  of  the  highest  nobility,  but  to  all  who  were 
eminent  in  letters. 

In  the  midst  of  an  extending  practice,  Hyde  could  not 
consent  to  deny  himself  the  pleasures  of  literary  society, 
and  he  delights,  in  his  memoirs,  to  dwell  upon  those 
happy  hours  when,  withdrawing  from  the  labors  of  his 
profession,  he  stole  a  brief  enjoyment  in  the  company  of 
the  gifted  writers  of  the  time.  He  describes  with  minute 
and  fond  attention  the  various  characters  of  that  brilliant 
circle  in  which  he  rejoiced  to  think  himself  "the  worst 
man  in  the  company."  Just  at  the  opening  of  the  first 
revolution,  England  possessed  a  literary  society  well 
worthy  of  the  exultation  of  Clarendon,  and  its  eminent 
members  were  in  the  habit  of  meeting  frequently,  before 
the  discords  of  party  severed  and  destroyed  it. 


mS   LITERARY   FRIENDS.  197 

With  Ben  Jonson,  the  severe  and  classical  reformer 
of  the  stage,  Hyde  was  intimate  for  many  years.  The 
learned  bricklayer  constantly  formed  one  of  the  favored 
circle  that  met  for  mutual  pleasure  and  improvement. 
There,  too,  came  the  pure  and  gentlemanly  Selden, 
acquainted  with  all  literature,  and  familiar  with  the 
usages  of  courts,  gifted  with  delightful  powers  of  conver- 
sation, and  although  inclining  to  republicanism,  yet 
never  losing  his  regard  for  his  royalist  companions. 
There  came  Cotton,  learned  and  polite,  but  falling  at 
last  into  sensual  indulgences,  to  the  great  grief  of  all  who 
knew  him.  There  was  Yaughan,  rough,  haughty,  inso- 
lent, and  a  republican.  There  was  Sir  Kenelm  Digby, 
graceful,  beautiful,  dissolute,  and  brave.  There  came  the 
modest  and  timid  May,  the  translator  of  Lucan,  who, 
from  a  favorite  of  Charles  I.  and  his  foreign  queen, 
became  the  historian  of  the  rebel  Parliament,  and  whose 
ashes,  at  the  Restoration,  were  taken  from  their  resting- 
place  in  Westminster  to  be  flung  into  a  pit  at  St.  Mar- 
garet's. Clarendon,  in  his  memoirs  and  his  history,  lin- 
gers with  delight  over  the  memory  of  these  eminent 
men,  the  companions  of  his  youth  ;  paints  with  delicacy 
and  enthusiasm  their  noble  qualities  ;  surveys  with  gene- 
rous forbearance  their  peculiar  faults  ;  and  rises  almost 
to  the  eloquence  of  a  great  author,  in  the  ardor  of  love 
and  admiration  with  which  he  records  their  characters 
and  their  fate. 

In  such  society,  and  in  the  diligent  pursuit  of  his  pro- 
fession, the  life  of  the  young  lawyer  passed  calmly  on- 


198  THE   PROSPERITY   OF   ENGLAND. 

ward,  while  around  him  everything  seemed  to  promise 
a  continuance  of  prosperity.  His  country  was  advancing 
in  wealth  and  was  yet  in  perfect  repose,  while  almost 
every  other  portion  of  Europe  was  disturbed  by  civil 
convulsions  or  desolating  wars.  E"o  monarch  of  his  time 
seemed  so  blest  as  Charles  I.  From  his  secure  retreat 
he  could  look  out  upon  the  convulsions  which  ravaged 
the  continent  as  the  landsman  from  a  promontory  beholds 
a  storm  and  a  shipwreck  at  sea.  His  kingdom  was  rich 
and  thriving  ;  its  commerce  was  spreading  over  every 
sea,  and  its  plantations  in  the  New  World,  so  lately  added 
to  its  dominion,  seemed  to  promise  an  unbounded 
increase  of  power.  "Who  could  foresee,"  exclaims 
Clarendon,  as  he  recalls  that  happy  period,  "  who  could 
foresee  the  storm  that  must  soon  blast  the  glory  and 
beauty  of  England." 

It  was  more  remarkable  that  he  himself  did  not  per- 
ceive the  greater  danger  that  hung  over  England  in  this 
moment  of  boasted  tranquillity ;  that  he  did  not  see  in 
the  cruel  oppression  of  the  Star  Chamber,  and  in  the 
avowed  purposes  of  the  king,  the  progress  of  a  tyranny 
which  must  soon  reduce  Englishmen  to  the  condition  of 
continental  serfs.  But  honest  loyalty  blinded  him  to  the 
faults  of  his  master.  So  long  as  the  king  was  safe  and 
the  church  omnipotent,  Clarendon  believed  that  the 
rights  of  his  countrymen  were  secure. 

His  honest  intellect  could  never  penetrate  the  false 
and  unsettled  characters  of  the  Stuarts.  He  believed 
Charles  I.  to  be  a  man  of  honor  when  he  had  repeatedly 


CHAELES  CALLS  A  PAKLIAMENT.         199 

broken  his  pledges  to  liis  people,  and  had  practically 
asserted  the  principles  that  kings  were  bound  by  no 
oaths  which  they  had  taken  to  their  subjects.  Nor  was 
he  yet  convinced  of  his  faithlessness  when  the  king  had 
sacrificed  his  old  friend,  Stafford,  to  the  rage  of  Parlia- 
ment, and  suffered  him  to  be  condemned  for  faults  of 
which  he  alone  was  guilty.  To  the  false  and  frivolous 
nature  of  Charles  II.  Clarendon  was  equally  blind.  He 
evidently  wasted  his  sincere  love  and  loyalty  upon  that 
most  selfish  and  heartless  of  princes ;  and  even' when  he 
had  himself  fallen  before  the  treachery  of  Charles,  and 
was  expiating  in  undeserved  exile,  like  a  second  Stafford, 
the  crimes  of  his  master,  Clarendon  forbears  to  utter  a 
word  of  reproach  against  the  king,  who  had  repaid  the 
long  services  of  his  life  with  such  selfish  ingratitude. 

In  1640,  Charles  I.  was  forced  to  call  a  Parliament, 
when  the  nation  was  already  excited  by  the  progress 
of  Puritanism  and  by  a  secret  dread  of  the  purposes  of 
the  court.  It  sat  for  a  few  weeks  in  the  spring  of  that 
year  and  was  then  hastily  dissolved.  In  this  Parliament 
Hyde  was  elected  from  two  boroughs.  He  began  his 
political  career  a  reformer.  He  attacked  the  Earl  Mar- 
shal's Court,  in  which  were  tried  all  offences  against  the 
privileges  of  the  nobility,  and  which  had  become  an 
instrument  of  great  injustice  and  oppression.  His  influ- 
ence in  Parliament  was  extensive ;  he  sat  upon  seven 
committees  during  its  continuance,  and  was  noted  for 
his  industry  and  activity. 

The  "  short  Parliament"  was  followed  by  that  famous 


200  THE   LONG    PARLIAMENT. 

assembly  winch  established  the  liberties  of  England  and 
America.  A  new  Parliament  was  summoned  for 
November  4,  the  same  year — the  author  of  the  revolu- 
tion. Hyde  was  one  of  its  most  active  members.  He 
resumed  his  attacks  upon  the  abuses  of  the  government, 
and  gained  an  extensive  influence ;  but  he  soon  betrayed 
his  peculiar  hostility  to  any  thing  that  might  touch  the 
interests  of  the  crown  or  the  church.  Living  by  his 
fortune  and  his  practice,  no  man  could  question  his 
honesty  or  rank  him  among  the  pensioned  supporters  of 
the  court.  Yet  he  was,  from  the  first,  distrusted  by  the 
reformers.  He  was  the  friend  of  Laud  and  was  known 
to  entertain  some  of  his  extreme  opinions.  He  was  an 
open  friend  to  royalty,  in  opposition  to  those  republican 
tendencies  which  were  already  advancing  among  the 
people.  The  republicans  made  frequent  efforts  to  gain 
him  to  their  extreme  measures,  but  when  they  found 
him  immovable  endeavored  to  arouse  a  general  preju- 
dice against  him,  and  even  sought  to  invalidate  his 
election.  Hyde,  however,  was  still  much  employed  in 
the  business  of  the  House,  and  sat  as  chairman  upon 
many  committees. 

While  presiding  upon  one  of  these  occasions  he  gave, 
as  he  believed,  inexpiable  offence  to  Oliver  Cromwell, 
who  was  present  at  the  hearing,  by  the  sternness  with 
which  he  rebuked  the  violence  of  certain  republican 
witnesses.  When  anything  was  urged  that  displeased 
them,  the  witnesses  grew  clamorous  and  insolent,  so  that 
Hyde  was  obliged  to  reprove  them  sharply.  Cromwell 


FALKLAND.  201 

immediately  accused  the  chairman  of  partiality,  and 
became  so  violent  and  insulting  that  Hyde  told  him,  if 
he  proceeded  in  this  manner,  he  would  dissolve  the 
committee.  Crom^  ell  never  forgave  the  offence. 

As  the  times  grew  more  alarming,  Hyde  gave  up  his 
professional  business  to  devote  all  his  attention  to  the 
interests  of  his  country.  When,  not  content  with  attack- 
ing abuses,  the  reformers  began,  as  he  believed,  an 
attempt  to  tear  down  the  church  and  the  monarchy,  he 
became  the  most  resolute  of  their  opponents.  Their 
leaders  endeavored,  by  every  art,  to  win  him  to  their 
side,  and  when  they  failed,  marked  him  out  for  their 
peculiar  hostility. 

Hyde  had  now  formed  an  intimate  friendship  with 
Lucius  Gary,  Lord  Falkland.  That  pure  and  gifted 
character  had  won  his  deepest  regard.  Late  in  life, 
when  age  might  have  dulled  his  enthusiasm,  Clarendon 
could  only  speak  of  his  friend  as  "that  incomparable 
young  man."  He  was  in  fact  "  incomparable,"  for  no 
parallel  can  be  found  for  him  in  all  the  history  of  the 
time.  Born  to  a  large  fortune,  he  had  devoted  himself 
to  severe  |Judy,  so  that  by  his  twenty-third  year  he  had 
read  all  the  Greek  and  Latin  fathers.  He  married,  at 
an  early  age,  a  lady  who  had  only  worth  and  intelligence 
for  her  dowry,  in  preference  to  a  wealthier  one,  who 
was  pressed  upon  him  by  his  father.  The  father  was 
dissolute  and  extravagant.  When  Falkland  discovered 
that  his  parent  was  involved  in  debt  by  his  own  follies, 
he  offered  to  give  up  to  him  the  whole  family  estates, 


202  IIIS   CIIAKACTEE. 

winch  had  been  settled  upon  him  by  his  grandfather's 
bequest.  He  went  abroad  with  his  young  wife,  and 
remained  thus  in  studious  exile,  until  his  father  died. 
He  returned  to  England  Yiscount  Falkland,  but  instead 
of  lingering  amid  the  gaieties  of  London,  immediately 
withdrew  to  his  rural  estate.  Here  his  house  became 
the  resort  of  all  the  learned :  his  books,  his  fortune  and 
his  company  were  ever  at  their  service.  Here  Ben 
Jonson  was  a  constant  visitor,  with  Chillingworth,  the 
great  controversalist,  and  Hales,  the  learned  professor, 
from  Oxford ;  and  here  Clarendon  delighted  to  steal 
away  from  the  ceaseless  drudgery  of  business. 

Falkland's  character  approached  perfect  goodness. 
He  was  modest,  generous,  studious  and  refined.  No 
unchaste  word  ever  passed  his  lips,  no  sarcasm  ever 
escaped  him.  Cheerful,  composed  and  beneficent,  he 
spread  happiness  around  him.  Many  were  his  secret 
benefactions  to  indigent  poets  and  suffering  wits ;  and 
no  one  could  do  more  than  guess  at  the  extent  of  his 
generosity.  Yet  all  this  nobility  of  feeling  and  eleva- 
tion of  nature  was  concealed  under  a  most  unattractive 
exterior.  Falkland  was  small  and  plain,  w^jpi  a  boyish 
look,  and  eyes  of  singular  brightness.  As  a  speaker  he 
was  ungraceful,  his  voice  harsh,  and  his  appearance  un- 
imposing ;  but  when  he  grew  warm  in  debate  the  fire 
of  his  eyes  and  the  clearness  of  his  reasoning  made 
amends  for  all  deficiencies. 

The  first  note  of  the  revolution  had  aroused  Falk- 
land from  his  literary  seclusioD.  He  entered  Parlia- 


HYDE'S  STEADY  LOYALTY  203 

ment,  and,  like  Clarendon,  began  his  career  a  reformer. 
But,  with  Clarendon,  he  soon  recoiled  from  the  excesses 
of  the  republicans.  He  was  a  friend  to  church  and 
king ;  one  of  the  most  eminent  of  the  opposers  of  the 
republican  faction. 

But  as  the  political  disputes  grew  fiercer,  Falkland's 
friends  observed  that  a  great  change  had  taken  place 
within  him.  He,  who  had  once  been  all  cheerfulness 
and  hope,  was  now  become  gloomy,  sad,  and  desponding. 
He  grew  negligent  of  his  dress,  and  careless  of  appear- 
ances, and  even  his  books  failed  to  win  him  from  his 
melancholy.  His  heart  was  evidently  grieving  hope- 
lessly over  the  troubles  of  his  country :  his  own  posi- 
tion dissatisfied  and  annoyed  him.  Opposed  to  the 
rebellious  Parliament,  he  was  yet  hardly  more  at  home 
by  the  side  of  the  king.  More  discerning  than  Claren- 
don, he  perceived  early  the  faithlessness  of  the  court,  as 
well  as  the  lawlessness  of  the  people,  and  he  feared  that 
the  success  of  either  must  be  equally  fatal  to  England. 
His  hopeless  anxiety  was  terminated  by  an  early  death. 
He  fell  ut  Newbury,  one  of  the  first  victims  of  the 
revolution. 

Hyde's  steady  loyalty  soon  won  for  him  the  con- 
fidence of  the  court.  When  the  Parliament  published 
their  "  Remonstrance  of  the  State  of  the  Nation,"  Hyde 
drew  up  an  answer,  which  was  seen  by  Lord  Digby, 
who  carried  it  to  the  king.  Charles  directed  it  to  be 
published ;  and  soon  after  he  selected  Hyde,  with  Falk- 
land and  Colpepper,  another  zealous  loyalist,  to  become 


204:  HE   JOINS    THE   KING   AT   YORK. 

Ins  most  trusted  advisers.  He  desired  them  to  meet 
frequently  to  consult  upon  his  affairs,  and  promised  to 
do  nothing  without  their  approval.  His  promise,  of 
course,  was  soon  broken.  Yet  the  three  friends  con- 
tinued to  meet  at  Hyde's  house,  which  was  now  become 
the  chosen  resort  of  all  who  were  well  affected  to  the 
king.  Hyde,  now  an  avowed  leader  of  the  loyalists, 
had  drawn  upon  himself  the  peculiar  hatred  of  the 
Commons.  "When  the  king  fled  to  York,  to  raise  the 
royal  standard,  Hyde  remained  in  London  until  he 
heard  that  his  enemies  were  about  to  arrest  him  for 
having  given  evil  counsel  to  the  king:  he  then  went 
down  into  the  country  as  if  for  a  little  recreation,  and 
when  the  Parliament  sent  orders  to  him  to  return,  fled 
to  the  royal  camp.  The  king  received  him  with  uncom- 
mon distinction;  bade  him  welcome  to  York,  and 
treated  him  rather  as  a  friend  than  a  subject.  "When 
the  commissioners  arrived  from  the  Commons,  to  sum- 
mon him  to  London,  Hyde  told  them  he  would  come 
when  the  king  gave  him  leave.  The  Commons,  in 
return,  excluded  him  from  their  offers  of  mercy. 

York  was  now  filled  with  the  court,  the  gentry,  and 
the  royalists  who  had  fled  from  Parliament.  King, 
nobles,  and  commons  mingled  together  in  unceremoni- 
ous freedom.  "  Ned  Hyde,"  as  Charles  familiarly 
called  him,  was  in  high  favor  and  employment.  He 
was  constantly  busy  with  pen,  speech,  and  personal 
influence,  in  strengthening  the  royal  cause.  The  king 
became  so  familiar  with  his  writings,  that  one  day  he 


HE   REFUSES   OFFICE.  205 

laid  a  wager  of  an  angel  with  Falkland,  that  he  could 
discover  Hyde's  peculiar  style  among  a  thousand.  A 
short  time  after,  Falkland  brought  to  Charles  a  speech, 
professedly  written  by  Lord  Pembroke.  The  king  read 
it  with  delight.  He  had  not  thought,  he  said,  that  Lord 
Pembroke  could  have  written  so  well.  But  he  had  lost 
his  angel.  The  speech  was  written  by  Hyde. 

Meantime,  several  offices  of  trust  and  honor  were 
offered  to  him,  but  for  preferment  he  showed  little  anxi- 
ety. He  declined  the  post  of  Secretary  of  State,  out  of 
regard  to  a  friend  whom  he  thought  more  worthy  of  it 
than  himself.  The  king,  however,  continued  to  press 
him  to  take  office,  and  he  at  last  consented  to  become 
Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer,  was  sworn  of  the  Privy 
Council,  and  knighted.  In  office  he  was  active,  labori- 
ous, and  wise,  and  had  he  been  taken  earlier  into  the 
Councils  of  his  king,  might  have  saved  England  much 
bloodshed  and  many  misfortunes. 

The  civil  war  began.  After  a  long  interval  of  tran- 
quillity, Englishmen  once  more  learned  to  stain  their 
hands  with  each  other's  blood.  London  became  an 
armed  fortress,  the  centre  of  sedition.  Old  Elizabethan 
mansions,  the  scene  of  family  enjoyment  and  domestic 
peace,  were  fortified,  attacked,  defended,  riddled  with 
bullets  and  blackened  with  fire.  Brave  English  matrons 
summoned  their  servants  about  them,  and  beat  off  rebel 
assailants  from  their  dwellings,  as  if  they  had  long 
practice  in  the  terrors  of  war.  And  all  over  the  island, 
cavaliers,  with  blood-stained  swords,  swept  by  startled 


206         IS  MADE  ONE  OF  THE  GUARDIANS. 

cottages,  and  troops  of  iron-clad  roundheads  marched 
through  green  lanes  and  quiet  neighborhoods,  in  pursuit 
of  their  vanquished  foe. 

From  the  first  Hyde  and  Falkland  had  no  hope  for 
the  king.  They  believed  him  doomed.  They  saw  that 
he  had  entered  upon  a  contest  from  which  Henry  VHI. 
and  the  great  Elizabeth  had  shrunk  back  in  just  alarm. 
But  they  clung  to  his  cause  with  pity  and  devotion. 
Amid  all  the  reverses  of  the  royalists,  Hyde  preserved 
an  uncbanging  cheerfulness.  However  sunk  and  de- 
sponding might  be  his  spirit,  his  countenance  remained 
ever  serene.  He  stood  by  his  beloved  king  with  the 
firmness  of  a  loving  heart.  Step  by  step  the  cautious 
parliamentarians  won  their  way  to  victory.  Early  in 
the  conflict,  at  the  battle  of  E~ewbury,  Hyde  lost  his 
incomparable  Falkland,  and  one  by  one,  that  gallant 
circle  which  had  assembled,  full  of  ardor  and  loyalty,  at 
York,  was  lessened  by  the  bullets  of  the  foe.  At  Naseby 
all  was  lost.  Hyde  was  selected,  with  Lords  Capel  and 
Ilopton,  to  take  charge  of  the  youthful  prince.  He 
parted  from  his  master  Charles  I.  with  sorrow  and 
despair,  yet  ignorant  that  that  venerated  head  must  be 
laid  upon  the  scaffold.  There  is  something  unusually 
touching  in  the  fervent  admiration  and  love  with  which 
he  always  regarded  his  erring  king. 

He  went  with  Prince  Charles,  then  fourteen  years  of 
age,  to  Bristol,  and  thence,  after  the  battle  of  ISTaseby, 
carried  him  into  the  isle  of  Jersey.  Queen  Henrietta, 
who  had  never  been  well  disposed  towards  Hyde,  now 


ARTHUK,  LOKD  CAPEL.  207 

summoned  the  prince  to  Paris,  while  Capel,  Hopton, 
and  Clarendon  remained  for  a  time  in  Jersey.  They 
took  a  house  in  St.  Hilary,  the  chief  town  in  the  island, 
and  here  Hyde  returned  to  the  studies  of  his  youth. 
He  commenced  his  history  of  the  Rebellion,  and  wrote 
various  pieces  in  defence  of  the  royalist  cause  against 
the  triumphant  Parliament.  The  three  friends  lived 
together  in  perfect  concord.  Their  simple  fare  satisfied 
their  moderate  desires.  They  amused  themselves  with 
books,  rural  amusement,  and  morning  walks  along  the 
sands. 

The  character  of  Arthur,  Lord  Capel,  has  lately  been 
gracefully  delineated  by  his  descendant,  Lady  Theresa 
Lewis.  He  was  one  of  those  noble  natures  that  are 
sometimes  brought  into  bold  relief  amid  great  civil 
convulsions.  His  form  was  almost  gigantic  in  size,  his 
appearance  fine  and  commanding.  Born  of  a  wealthy 
country  family,  he  sat  in  the  Long  Parliament  and  at 
first  opposed  the  measures  of  the  crown.  Soon,  how- 
ever, when  the  designs  of  each  party  became  apparent, 
he  left  the  republicans  to  take  his  place  among  the 
firmest  supporters  of  the  king.  His  loyalty  and  self- 
sacrificing  devotion  to  Charles  were  conspicuous  even 
among  the  many  examples  of  these  qualities  for  which 
that  period  is  remarkable.  When  the  rebel  forces, 
having  seized  Capel's  young  son,  held  him  up  before 
their  front  ranks  to  check  the  ardor  of  his  father,  Capel 
bade  them  murder  his  son,  for  that  Heaven  would 
avenge  him.  And  he  attacked  the  enemy  as  if  no 
obstacle  intervened. 


208  HYDE   IN   THE   ISLE   OF  JERSEY. 

The  society  of  the  exiles  was  soon  broken  up.  Capel 
having  ventured  to  pass  over  into  England  to  engage  in 
an  enterprise  against  the  enemy,  was  taken  prisoner  at 
Colchester,  and  for  some  time  lay  uncertain  of  his  fate. 
While  in  prison  he  heard  that  his  master  was  con- 
demned to  death;  the  zealous  loyalist  immediately 
wrote  to  Cromwell  begging  to  be  allowed  to  suffer  in 
his  stead.  Unmoved  by  such  noble  self-devotion, 
Cromwell  soon  after  caused  Capel  himself  to  be  exe- 
cuted ;  when  he  was  about  to  die  he  wrote  to  his  wife 
to  be  comforted,  for  that  "more  would  celebrate  his 
name  with  praise  than  with  sadness." 

Lord  Hopton  having  left  Jersey,  Hyde  was  alone. 
He  then  went  to  live  with  Sir  George  Carteret,  the 
governor  of  the  island,  who  received  him  with  great 
regard.  His  time  passed  pleasantly  among  his  books, 
although  his  poverty  was  so  great  that  he  was  unable 
to  send  for  his  wife  and  children.  It  was,  however,  one 
of  the  happiest  periods  of  his  life.  Ten  hours  each  day 
he  passed  in  study,  and  daily  wrote  a  full  sheet.  The 
fame  of  his  history  reached  King  Charles  in  prison,  and 
it  was  an  evident  satisfaction  to  him,  in  the  gloomy 
close  of  his  life,  that  his  name  and  memory  were  to  be 
preserved  to  posterity  by  the  pen  of  his  devoted  servant. 
The  king  wrote  to  Hyde  to  thank  him  for  his  promised 
work,  and  offered  to  send  him  some  important  par- 
ticulars in  his  own  hand,  particularly  those  that  had 
happened  since  they  parted. 

In  1648,  Hyde  was  aroused  from  his  seclusion  by  a 
summons  from  the  Queen  Henrietta  to  attend  her  son 


DISSENSIONS   AMONG  THE   EXILES.  209 

Prince  Charles  at  Paris.  He  immediately  hastened  to 
France,  but  found  the  prince  gone  to  Holland.  Hyde, 
with  several  royalist  companies,  set  sail  for  that 
country;  their  ship  was  seized  on  its  passage  by  an 
Ostend  privateer,  and  the  adventurers  made  no  scruple 
to  seize  upon  the  property  and  jewels  of  the  exiles,  the 
last  relics  of  their  decayed  fortunes.  Hyde  thought 
himself  happy  in  being  able  to  recover,  by  the  inter- 
vention of  the  magistrate  of  Ostend,  his  private  papers 
and  manuscripts,  which  he  valued  more  than  all  his 
possessions. 

Dejected,  poor,  and  disunited,  the  exiles  gathered 
around  their  prince  at  the  Hague.  Violent  dissensions 
were  already  raging  amongst  them.  Prince  Rupert 
hated  Colpepper,  and  was  not  friendly  towards  Hyde. 
The  character  of  the  young  prince,  too,  was  unpromis- 
ing. He  had  none  of  the  grave  dignity  and  apparent 
virtue  which  threw  a  veil  over  the  faults  of  his  father. 
Good-natured,  brave,  but  licentious,  unprincipled,  and 
self-indulgent,  he  seemed  little  likely  to  conquer  back 
his  kingdom.  One  hope  alone  cheered  the  fallen  spirits 
of  the  exiles :  they  believed  that  the  Commons  must 
yet  relent  towards  their  imprisoned  king,  and  that  the 
interest  and  the  quiet  of  England  would  finally  enforce 
his  restoration.  This  hope  was  now  suddenly  quenched 
for  ever.  News  came  to  the  Hague  that  his  majesty 
the  king  had  been  executed  like  a  traitor  upon  the 
scaffold.  The  royalists  were  filled  with  horror  and 
despair.  In  their  view  the  nation  had  committed  an 


210  IIYDE   IN   SPAIN. 

inexpiable  crime ;  their  countrymen  were  parricides. 
And  for  themselves,  after  their  first  grief  and  indigna- 
tion were  over,  they  ceased  to  hope. 

Lord  Cottington  and  Hyde  were  sent  in  1649  as  am- 
bassadors to  Spain  from  the  wandering  and  dethroned 
Charles  II.  They  could  hardly  look  for  a  flattering 
reception  in  a  kingdom  which  was  already  trembling 
before  the  energy  and  fame  of  Cromwell.  Upon  their 
arrival,  they  were  treated  with  little  ceremony.  No 
public  notice  was  taken  of  their  entry  into  Madrid,  and 
they  were  studiously  overlooked.  Hyde,  however,  was 
charmed  with  the  stately  manners  and  graceful  sports 
of  the  Spaniards,  their  Moorish  games  of  horsemanship, 
and  even  their  bull-fights,  of  which  he  has  left  in  his 
memoirs,  a  striking  description.  In  Spain  too,  he 
learned  to  value  art.  In  the  galleries  of  the  Escurial  he 
became  familiar  with  the  masters  of  the  Spanish  school, 
and  studied  at  leisure  the  works  of  Murillo  and  Yelas- 
quez.  In  after  life,  this  passion  was  to  revive  with 
new  force,  and  to  give  birth  to  the  famous  Clarendon 
Gallery. 

Neglected  by  the  Spanish  government,  and  almost 
moneyless,  Hyde  remained  unnoticed  at  Madrid,  study- 
ing the  manners  and  policy  of  the  people  among  whom 
he  was  thrown.  He  had  perfect  leisure.  The  ministry 
scarcely  noticed  him,  except  when  at  rare  intervals  a 
hope  of  success  once  more  dawned  upon  the  royalists. 
When  Charles  II.  entered  Scotland,  with  some  prospects 
of  advantages,  his  ambassadors  were  treated  with  more 


HIS   POVERTY.  211 

regard ;  after  his  defeat  at  Worcester  they  were  ordered 
to  leave  Spain.  Hyde  set  out  for  Paris,  in  such  distress 
that  he  had  hardly  money  sufficient  to  pay  for  his  daily 
food.  He  paused,  however,  to  visit  the  chief  cities  of 
Spain  and  its  eminent  seats  of  learning.  His  mind  in 
the  lowest  stages  of  his  fortunes,  never  ceased  to  gather 
information.  At  Paris  he  found  the  royal  family 
divided,  by  constant  disputes ;  the  Queen  Henrietta  was 
displeased  with  the  Duke  of  York,  who  was  dependent 
upon  her  bounty  for  his  support :  and  for  Hyde  she  had 
never  anything  but  enmity :  the  king  too,  was  in  Scot- 
land hiding  from  his  pursuers,  and  to  complete  the 
gloom  which  hung  over  the  prospects  of  the  royalists,  a 
rumor  had  arrived  of  his  death. 

Soon  after,  Hyde  with  his  wife  and  family  went  to 
reside  at  Antwerp.  They  were  reduced  to  want. 
Hardly  could  he  provide  them  with  the  common  neces- 
saries of  life.  For  himself,  although  he  was  often  with- 
out money  to  buy  suitable  clothing,  or  fuel  to  defend 
himself  against  the  inclemency  of  the  winter,  and  was 
often  forced  to  give  up  his  pen  because  his  fingers 
became  numbed  with  cold,  yet  all  this  might  easily 
have  been  borne  for  the  sake  of  his  king  and  his  princi- 
ples ;  but  the  condition  of  his  poor  family,  he  tells  one 
of  his  correspondents,  wrings  his  heart.  In  his  distress 
he  took  refuge  with  his  old  comforters  his  books  and 
his  companions.  At  Antwerp  he  found  a  friend  who 
must  have  recalled  the  memory  of  Falkland.  Sir 
Charles  Cavendish,  deformed,  little,  and  repulsive  to 


212  THE   RESTORATION. 

look  upon,  had  merit,  genius,  learning  and  courage  suffi- 
cient to  make  him  renowned.  He  corresponded  upon 
scientific  subjects  with  Descartes  and  Gassendi.  He 
had  fought  by  the  side  of  his  brother,  the  Marquis  of 
Newcastle,  in  the  fiercest  battles  of  the  civil  wars,  and 
Clarendon  ever  remembered  him  as  one  of  the  most 
gifted  of  that  long  succession  of  remarkable  friends  who 
had  secured  his  lasting  regard. 

An  important  circumstance  now  occurred.  To  relieve 
Clarendon's  extreme  poverty,  his  daughter  Anne  was 
invited  into  the  service  of  the  princess  royal.  Hyde 
asserts  that  he  opposed  this  appointment  and  yielded 
reluctantly  to  the  advice  of  his  friends.  Through  this 
connection  with  the  princesses'  court,  Anne  was  thrown 
into  the  society  of  the  Duke  of  York,  to  whom  she  was 
privately  married. 

Years  of  exile,  poverty  and  despair  were  now  to  be 
atoned  for  by  a  sudden  change  of  fortune.  It  was  the 
Restoration.  Cromwell  had  died,  and  no  man  in  Eng- 
land could  fill  the  place  of  the  Puritan  despot.  In  their 
anxiety  and  alarm  the  people  could  see  no  other  mode 
of  preserving  the  quiet  of  their  country  than  to  summon 
back  their  dissolute  king  and  his  train  of  wild  cavaliers. 
They  came  back  to  their  native  land  reeking  with  foreign 
vices  and  estranged  from  the  habits  of  Englishmen. 
In  England  an  austerity  of  morals  prevailed  such  as  had 
no  parallel  in  history.  The  play-houses  were  shut,  the 
haunts  of  dissipation  had  been  purged  by  the  zealous 
scrutiny  of  the  Puritans,  and  in  all,  save  politics,  the 


ANNE   HYDE,   DUTCIIESS   OF  YORK.  213 

decalogue  was  the  law  of  the  land.  Suddenly,  the  bois- 
terous cavaliers  and  their  dissolute  king  broke  in  upon 
this  grave  and  austere  nation,  preparing  in  the  midst  of 
the  joyous  welcome  they  received  from  their  country- 
men, the  destruction  of  the  national  religion  and  the 
ruin  of  the  national  faith. 

Hyde,  the  purest  of  the  new  king's  advisers,  obtained 
at  first  the  consideration  which  his  faithful  services  had 
deserved.  He  was  made  lord  chancellor  and  the  head 
of  the  ministry,  and  for  some  time  possessed  the  entire 
confidence  of  his  master.  He  was,  however,  never  eager 
for  titles  or  wealth,  and  while  Monk  was  made  Duke 
of  Albemarle,  and  Montague  an  earl,  he  persisted  in 
refusing  promotion.  But  an  event  soon  occurred  which 
forced  him  to  distinguish  himself  by  titles  suitable  to  his 
high  position,  since  he  was  now  become  father-in-law  to 
the  Duke  of  York. 

Anne  Hyde,  unattractive  in  person  and  gifted  only 
with  plain  common  sense,  had  fixed  the  affections  of  the 
duke  ;  in  the  ardor  of  his  passion  he  had  either  entered 
into  a  contract  of  marriage  or  was  even  married  to  her 
in  private.  When  their  secret  could  no  longer  be  con- 
cealed, Anne  claimed  with  violence  the  performance  of 
his  promise.  The  duke  yielded  to  her  entreaties,  and 
went  to  the  king  to  ask  his  consent  to  their  marriage. 
Charles,  at  first  willing  to  consent,  partly,  it  is  to  be 
hoped,  from  consideration  for  his  father's  friend,  sent 
the  Duke  of  Ormond  and  the  Earl  of  Southampton  to 
break  the  matter  to  the  chancellor.  The  astonished 


214:         THE    QUEEN  -MOTHER    OPPO3KS    THE   MARRIAGE. 

father  listened  with  shame  and  indignation  to  their 
relation ;  he  broke  into  violent  reproaches  against  his 
daughter,  he  cried  ont  that  she  must  be  sent  a  prisoner 
to  the  Tower,  and  declared  that  he  would  be  the  first  to 
counsel  her  execution  for  the  offence.  His  friends 
hinted  that  she  might  already  be  married  to  the  duke, 
but  the  chancellor  replied  that  then  her  guilt  was  greater 
than  before.  At  this  moment  Charles  himself  came  into 
the  room  and  found  his  old  servant  and  guardian  weep- 
ing. The  king  with  his  facile  good  nature  endeavored 
to  console  him  by  promising  that  the  duke  should  make 
her  his  wife. 

This  event  necessarily  drew  the  attention  of  the  court 
and  the  whole  royal  family.  The  queen-mother,  always 
a  bitter  enemy  to  the  chancellor,  no  sooner  heard  of  the 
intended  marriage  than  she  hastened  into  England  to 
interfere.  She  pressed  the  duke  not  to  dishonor  his 
royal  blood  by  an  ignoble  connection.  She  even  won 
the  fickle  Charles  to  forget  his  promise  to  his  ancient 
friend  ;  and  when,  at  her  instigation,  some  of  the  chan- 
cellor's enemies  devised  a  false  tale,  which  they  swore 
to  be  true,  that  his  daughter's  honor  had  been  tainted 
before  she  had  met  the  duke,  even  James  himself  began 
to  waver.  But  afflictions  now  fell  upon  the  royal  family 
— the  Duke  of  Gloucester  and  the  princess  royal,  the 
next  heirs  to  the  crown,  died  of  small  pox,  and  James, 
obstinate  in  love  as  in  faith  and  politics,  grew  melancholy 
and  gave  up  his  usual  amusements.  The  contrivers  of 
the  plot  against  Anne's  fair  fame  now  confessed  their 


CLARENDON'S  UNPOPULARITY.  215 

perjury  ;  even  the  queen-mother  herself  finally  yielded, 
and  the  chancellor's  daughter  was  at  length  made 
Dutchess  of  York. 

He  was  immediately  made  a  baron,  and  in  1661,  at 
the  coronation,  became  Earl  of  Clarendon.  The  king 
presented  him  with  £20,000,  to  enable  him  to  support 
his  honors  decently ;  and  offered  him  a  grant  of  ten 
thousand  acres  of  land,  which  he  refused. 

It  is  remarkable,  that  Clarendon,  the  wisest  and 
purest  of  the  returned  cavaliers,  should  so  speedily 
have  become  the  most  unpopular  of  them  all.  He 
offended  at  once  three  great  parties.  The  royalists  he 
displeased  by  his  bill  of  Indemnity,  which,  while  it  re- 
called all  gifts  or  sales  of  property  by  the  rebel  govern- 
ment, made  no  provision  for  the  cases  of  those  royalists 
who  had  sold  their  estates  for  a  small  sum,  in  order  to 
send  the  money  to  the  king ;  and  provided  no  compen- 
sation for  those  who  had  been  ruined  by  their  steady  loy- 
alty. By  the  enraged  cavaliers  it  was  called  "  an  act  of 
indemnity  for  the  king's  enemies  and  of  oblivion  to  his 
friends."  Clarendon,  too,  awakened  a  bitter  hostility 
among  low  churchmen  and  dissenters  by  his  "  act  of  Uni- 
formity," which  compelled  every  clergyman  to  subscribe 
to  the  forms  of  the  Church  of  England,  or  be  expelled 
from  his  living.  Two  thousand  clergymen  were  by  this 
sudden  and  illiberal  measure  driven  from  their  homes, 
and  deprived  of  all  support.  Another  act  passed  by 
his  influence  imposed  a  fine  upon  every  conventicle 
or  private  assembly  for  religious  worship,  where  more 


216  ITS   CAUSES. 

than  five  besides  the  family  should  be  present ;  and  he 
completed  his  unpopularity  by  a  cruel  law,  which  for- 
bade the  expelled  clergy  from  coming  within  five  miles 
of  their  former  parish :  he  would  not  only  take  away 
their  bread,  but  must  sever  for  ever  their  connection 
with  their  former  homes.  The  only  consolation  the 
dissenters  could  have  in  their  affliction  was,  that  the 
laws  against  the  Romanists  were  enforced  as  strictly  as 
those  against  themselves. 

Other  circumstances  served  to  render  Clarendon  un- 
popular among  his  countrymen.  "No  sooner  had  the 
first  joy  of  the  Restoration  subsided,  than  the  nation 
began  to  perceive  that  all  those  promises  of  religious 
and  political  liberality  which  had  been  so  readily  given 
by  the  king  and  the  court,  were  little  to  be  relied  upon, 
They  found  the  king  scarcely  less  inclined  to  arbitrary 
measures  than  had  been  his  tyrannical  father :  they 
believed  that  he  was  secretly  a  Romanist,  resolved  to 
restore  the  old  religion  by  slow  and  gradual  meas- 
ures ;  they  were  shocked  at  his  licentious  manners ;  the 
dissolute  character  of  his  courtiers;  the  little  regard 
that  wTas  paid  in  all  the  measures  of  the  court  to  the 
interest  and  glory  of  England ;  and  in  the  violence  of 
the  reaction  they  visited  the  chief  part  of  their  dis- 
pleasure and  indignation  upon  the  king's  adviser  and 
chief  minister,  the  chancellor.  Clarendon's  manners  too 
had  never  been  conciliatory.  Even  in  youth  he  never  so 
far  overcame  his  stately  reserve,  as  to  mingle  familiarly 
with  the  members  of  his  own  profession;  and  as  he 


THE  CLARENDON  GALLEKY.  217 

grew  older  this  indifference  to  popular  favor  increased. 
He  made  no  attempt  to  win  the  regard  of  those  young 
men  of  talent  who  were  rising  at  the  bar  or  in  Parlia- 
ment ;  and  when  his  old  friends  one  by  one  had  died,  he 
was  left  almost  alone  in  friendless  grandeur. 

Even  his  fine  taste  in  architecture  and  painting  con- 
tributed to  his  ruin.  He  laid,  in  1664,  the  foundations 
of  a  palace  in  Piccadilly,  London,  which  was  to  surpass 
the  splendors  of  Whitehall.  This  unfortunate  undertak- 
ing, which  he  prosecuted  with  great  ardor,  finally 
exhausted  his  fortune  and  covered  him  with  popular 
odium.  In  the  midst  of  national  disgrace  and  national 
misfortunes  the  vast  pile  slowly  ascended.  Before  it 
was  completed  its  master  was  an  exile. 

The  ornament  and  the  shame  of  the  new  palace  was 
its  gallery  of  paintings.  It  was  designed  to  contain 
portraits  of  all  Englishmen,  who  had  become  renowned 
either  for  genius  or  station.  There  were  seen  the  old 
nobility  of  the  Tudor  times  and  the  new  aristocracy  of 
his  own — there  were  famous  poets,  eminent  lawyers,  and 
worthy  divines :  and  there  were  arrayed  the  various  cos- 
tumes of  Englishmen  since  the  middle  ages,  their 
armor,  decorations,  and  robes  of  state.  The  design  was 
certainly  an  excellent  one,  and  has  found  many  imita- 
tors ;  it  preceded  and  perhaps  suggested  the  gallery  of 
Versailles,  of  Windsor,  of  Florence,  and  of  the  Walhalla. 

But  it  was  whispered  by  the  enemies  of  the  chancellor 
in  the  court  and  the  city,  that  his  fine  gallery  was  made 
up  from  the  spoils  of  ruined  royalists  ;  that  many  of  the 

10 


218       FATE  OF  THE  PALACE  AND  GALLERY. 

pictures  had  been  purchased  at  low  rates  from  rebels 
who  had  ravished  them  from  their  loyal  owners ;  and 
that  others  were  presents  from  needy  suitors  for  court 
favor.  Clarendon's  passion  for  art  was  no  sooner  known 
than  many  distressed  royalists  hastened  to  offer  him  the 
wreck  of  their  galleries,  and  it  is  not  denied  that  in 
many  instances  he  accepted  these  melancholy  gifts. 

This  palace,  once  so  magnificent,  has  left  behind  it  no 
vestige  but  the  name.  On  its  owner's  death  it  was  sold 
to  the  Duke  of  Albemarle,  who  again  conveyed  it  to 
Sir  Thomas  Bond.  A  hotel,  the  Clarendon,  famous  for 
its  excellent  cookery,  now  occupies  its  site,  and  is  said 
to  contain  a  few  fragments  of  the  old  walls.  The  gal- 
lery was  equally  unfortunate.  "When  the  palace  was 
sold,  the  pictures  were  removed  to  Cornbury  in  Oxford- 
shire. Here  a  portion  of  them,  comprising  many  full- 
length  portraits,  was  sold  by  the  second  earl  for  twelve 
hundred  pounds.  The  third  earl,  a  spendthrift,  who  lay 
for  some  time  in  E"ew  York  jail  for  debt,  after  he  had 
ceased  to  be  governor  of  the  province,  aided  in  dimi- 
nishing it.  Next  it  fell  into  chancery,  and  the  Duchess 
of  Queensberry  claimed  and  obtained  a  moiety  of  the 
pictures  which  were  removed  to  Bothwell  Castle  on  the 
Clyde.  The  remainder  of  this  famous  collection  were 
preserved  at  the  Grove,  Hertfordshire,  by  the  family 
of  the  chancellor,  and  have  lately  been  brought  to  the 
notice  of  the  public  by  a  gifted  descendant  of  the  earls 
of  Clarendon  and  Essex.* 

*  Lady  Theresa  Lewis. 


HIS   FRIEND   EVELYN.  219 

In  the  sale  of  his  house  the  chancellor's  papers  also 
suffered  greatly.  More  than  a  thousand  letters  were 
parted  with  by  the  second  earl  in  discharge  of  his  debts. 
A  portion  of  them  were  purchased  for  Oxford,  and 
finally.  Lord  Hyde  bequeathed  the  remainder  to  that 
university,  directing  that  they  should  be  published  and 
the  profits  be  applied  to  found  a  riding-school. 

Clarendon,  meanwhile,  apparently  unconscious  of  the 
dislike  of  his  countrymen,  amused  his  leisure  by  urging 
on  the  completion  of  his  palace  and  his  gallery.  He 
was  also  engaged  in  improving  his  house  at  Cornbury. 
Evelyn,  who  had  made  his  acquaintance  abroad,  while 
both  were  exiles,  visited  him  frequently,  and  aided, 
by  his  taste  and  learning,  in  the  arrangement  of  his 
pictures  and  the  decoration  of  the  palace.  The  amiable 
temper  of  Evelyn,  his  unaffected  piety,  and  active 
inquiring  mind,  had  strong  attractions  for  Clarendon. 
He  reminded  him  perhaps  of  that  pleasant  circle  in 
wrhich  he  had  mingled  before  the  rebellion,  and  called 
up  anew  the  loved  Falkland,  the  austere  Jonson,  the 
learned  Chillingworth  and  Hales.  He  bought  no  pic- 
tures without  consulting  Evelyn :  Evelyn  went  down 
to  Cornbury  to  suggest  improvements  in  the  country 
mansion,  and  Evelyn  was  almost  the  last  person  with 
whom  he  conversed  in  England. 

Clarendon  was  now  at  the  height  of  his  power. 
Austere  and  dignified,  the  representative  of  an  elder 
and  purer  age,  to  the  dissolute  court  around  him  he 
became  an  object  of  envy  and  fear.  He  never  con- 


220  HIS   FALL    DRAWS   NEAK. 

descended  to  join  in  their  revels  or  to  conform  his 
character  to  the  modern  vices,  and  he  never  hesitated 
to  show  the  contempt  and  disgust  with  which  he 
regarded  that  general  licentiousness  which  had  infected 
the  higher  ranks.  In  return  for  this  open  contempt  the 
courtiers  plotted  against  him  in  secret,  and  mimicked  his 
stately  manner  and  long  moral  lessons  for  the  entertain- 
ment of  the  king.  A  favorite  amusement  of  Charles  was 
to  see  Buckingham  represent  the  chancellor.  But  as  yet 
Clarendon's  power  was  unshaken.  In  council,  among 
the  greatest  lords  of  England,  he  spoke  with  a  freedom 
and  decision  that  marked  his  superiority,  a  trait  which 
Mr.  Samuel  Pepys,  who  was  at  one  of  the  sittings,  pro- 
nounced to  be  "  mighty  pretty."  It  was  evident  to  all 
that  he  was  much  elated  by  his  prosperity.  Naturally 
fond  of  magnificence  and  worldly  show,  he  had  been 
permitted  to  gratify  his  highest  ambition,  and  for  a 
moment  he  yielded  to  the  intoxication  of  success. 

His  fall,  however,  was  now  drawing  near.  Had  he 
sought  to  preserve  the  affection  of  Charles  he  might 
have  remained  for  life  the  greatest  subject  of  England, 
and  it  would  have  been  easy  by  a  ready  compliance  in 
policy  and  religion  for  Clarendon  to  have  maintained 
his  influence  over  the  king.  But,  almost  alone  amid 
his  youthful  peers,  the  chancellor  possessed  a  good 
heart  and  fixed  principles,  and  these  soon  drew  him 
into  opposition  to  the  favorite  measures  of  the  king. 
His  first  fault  was  the  share  which  he  took  in  the  royal 
marriage,  and  the  generosity  with  which  he  defended 


HIS   CHIEF   CRIME.  221 

the  unfortunate  queen  from  the  persecution  of  her 
estranged  husband,  and  the  insults  of  his  favorite  Lady 
Castlemaine. 

Still,  however,  this  fault  was  pardonable  ;  for  Charles 
liked  a  bold  spirit  and  was  already  tired  of  Lady 
Castlemaine.  Two  motives  of  a  far  stronger  character 
led  him  to  desire  the  fall  of  the  chancellor.  He  was 
fallen  in  love  with  Miss  Stuart,  one  of  the  maids  of 
honor,  and  as  he  could  not  win  her  in  any  other  man- 
ner, was  desirous  of  making  her  his  queen.  This 
project  Clarendon  steadily  opposed,  and  when  Miss 
Stuart  was  soon  after  privately  married  to  the  Duke  of 
Richmond,  Charles,  disappointed  and  enraged,  believed 
that  the  chancellor  had  hastened  the  marriage  in  order 
to  prevent  the  fulfillment  of  his  own  desires.  Claren- 
don, too,  betrayed  another  fatal  defect  to  the  eyes  ot 
the  king.  He  was  a  firm  and  decided  Protestant. 
Charles  already  a  papist,  who  was  concerting  a  plan  for 
restoring  the  ancient  faith,  perceived  that  the  most 
dangerous  opponent  of  the  scheme  would  be  his  own 
chancellor.  Disappointed  love  and  religious  zeal  thus 
conspired  to  steel  the  heart  of  the  king  against  the 
friend  and  guardian  of  his  youth,  and  he  was  already 
planning  his  ruin,  when  a  sudden  outbreak  of  the 
popular  dislike  for  the  unfortunate  minister  made  it 
more  than  ever  desirable  to  sacrifice  him. 

A  series  of  events  occurred  the  most  lamentable  that 
have  ever  in  the  course  of  a  single  year  fallen  upon 
England.  The  Plague  destroyed  more  than  a  hundred 


222      THE  PEOPLE  INSULT  THE  CHANCELLOE. 

thousand  inhabitants  in  London  alone.  A  fire,  the 
most  destructive  the  world  had  known  since  the  reign 
of  Nero,  laid  three-fourths  of  the  metropolis  in  ashes, 
and  deprived  two  hundred  thousand  citizens  of  a  home ; 
and,  in  the  moment  of  these  domestic  griefs,  a  hostile 
fleet,  for  the  first  time  since  the  invasion  of  the  Danes, 
sailed  up  the  Thames,  destroyed  the  English  ships  at 
Chatham,  and  so  alarmed  the  feeble  advisers  of  Charles 
that  for  a  time  they  had  resolved  to  abandon  the 
Tower  and  give  up  the  capital  of  England  to  the  foe. 

The  alarm  of  the  Dutch  invasion  having  soon  passed 
away,  the  court  might  have  overlooked  and  forgotten  it 
entirely  had  not  the  insult  to  the  national  honor  sunk 
deep  in  the  minds  of  the  people.  The  citizens  of  London 
assembled  in  crowds  and  clamored  for  vengeance  upon 
those  advisers  of  the  crown  who  had  so  nearly  delivered 
up  the  capital  into  the  hands  of  a  foreign  invader.  As, 
the  king  passed  through  the  streets  they  called  out  "  a 
Parliament,  a  Parliament."  And  it  was  plain  that 
nothing  could  appease  the  popular  discontent  but  the 
sacrifice  of  the  unfortunate  ministers. 

The  chief  object  of  public  hatred  was  the  chancellor. 
Though  he  had  long  ceased  to  possess  any  influence  in 
the  council,  and  had  ever  opposed,  to  his  own  detriment, 
the  extravagance  and  carelessness  of  the  king,  Clarendon 
was  the  victim  for  whose  destruction  the  people  clamored 
incessantly.  They  affronted  him  in  Westminster  Hall 
itself,  when  he  sat  at  the  trial  of  causes,  by  shouting 
"Dunkirk  House  1" — they  had  seen  with  extreme  disgust 


DEATH   OF   HIS   GRANDCHILDREN.  223 

his  stately  palace  arising  in  splendor  amid  all  the  devas- 
tations of  the  fire  and  the  national  losses  upon  the  sea, 
and  it  was  a  common  rumor  through  the  streets  of 
London,  that  the  chancellor's  house  had  been  paid  for 
by  the  sale  of  Dunkirk.  It  was  said,  too,  that  his  daugh- 
ter, "  Nan  Hyde,"  had  grown  insolently  proud  since  her 
late  rise  in  station ;  that  she  was  extravagant,  vain  and 
selfish,  and  had  already,  by  her  wastefulness,  involved 
the  duke  deeply  in  debt.  The  people,  to  mark  their 
hatred  for  Clarendon,  assembled  in  crowds  before  the  new 
palace,  cut  down  the  trees  in  front,  broke  his  windows 
with  stones,  and  painted  a  gibbet  upon  his  gate.  They 
cried  out  that  he  had  undone  the  kingdom,  that  being 
raised  by  his  daughter's  marriage  above  all  fear  of  pun- 
ishment, he  had  plunged  the  nation  in  ruin  and  disgrace. 
In  the  midst  of  this  popular  odium  another  misfortune 
befell  him — the  two  sons  of  the  Dutchess  of  York  were 
seized  with  the  small  pox.  "It  was  pretty,"  writes 
Pepys,  "  to  observe  how,  when  my  lord  sent  down  to 
St.  James  to  see  why  the  Duke  of  York  came  not,  and 
Mr.  Poy  who  went  returned,  my  lord  did  ask  not  how 
the  princes  or  the  dukes  do,  as  other  people  do,  biit 
'How  do  the  children?'  which  methought  was  mighty 
great  and  like  a  good  man  and  a  grandfather."  The 
two  young  dukes  soon  after  died,  to  the  sorrow  of  the 
whole  nation,  which  had  already  begun  to  look  upon 
them  as  its  future  rulers ;  while  Clarendon  was  thus 
deprived  of  the  influence  he  could  naturally  possess  as 
grandfather  to  the  male  heirs  of  the  crown. 


224  HIS   WIFE   DIES. 

Almost  friendless  in  the  midst  of  his  grandeur,  Cla- 
rendon soon  sunk  before  the  blows  of  his  enemies.  His 
misfortunes  fell  thickly  upon  him.  His  excellent  wife, 
the  companion  of  thirty-five  years  of  uncommon  vicissi- 
tudes, died  in  the  commencement  of  his  fall,  and  hardly 
was  he  recovered  from  the  first  shock  of  his  loss  when 
the  king  sent  the  Duke  of  York,  on  the  30th  August, 
16 $7,  to  demand  the  great  seal.  "Not  satisfied  with 
depriving  him  of  his  office  and  of  exposing  him  un- 
guarded to  his  enemies,  Charles,  with  his  usual  ingrati- 
tude, took  occasion  to  reflect  upon  the  conduct  of  his 
faithful  servant  in  his  speech  to  the  new  Parliament ; 
and  he  thus  lent  his  countenance  to  the  impeachment 
which  the  chancellor's  enemies  were  preparing  against 
him.  This  impeachment  was  founded  upon  the  most 
frivolous  and  improbable  charges.  He  was  accused  of 
having  advised  the  king  to  dissolve  the  Parliament  and 
to  rely  for  support  solely  upon  a  standing  army;  of 
having  said  that  the  king  was  a  papist ;  of  betraying  the 
king's  counsels  to  the  enemy ;  of  selling  offices,  and  of 
having  introduced  arbitrary  government  into  the  Ameri- 
can plantations.  It  was  charged  that  he  had  advised 
the  sale  of  Dunkirk,  and  the  Dutch  war ;  and,  in  fine, 
that  he  had  been  the  author  of  all  those  fatal  measures 
which  had  dishonored  the  reign  of  Charles  H. 

To  all  these  accusations  Clarendon  simply  replied  by 
the  mouth  of  his  son,  Lord  Cornbury,  that  if  any  one 
of  them  was  proved  to  be  true,  he  would  confess  all  the 
rest.  Conscious  of  perfect  innocence,  he  felt  that  not 


HIS    FRIENDS    ADVISE   HIM   TO    FLY. 


a  charge  of  all  that  were  urged  against  him  could  be 
sustained.  His  firmness  alarmed  the  king  and  his  ad- 
visers. They  felt  that  should  he  await  his  trial,  the 
real  authors  of  the  national  calamities  must  be  exposed. 
They  resolved,  therefore,  to  drive  him  to  a  voluntary 
exile.  His  friends,  rendered  anxious  for  his  safety  by 
the  arts  and  the  threats  of  the  court,  advised  him  to  fly 
for  a  time  abroad ;  and  when  he  resisted  these  well- 
meant,  but  imprudent  counsels,  declaring  that  he  would 
not  yield  except  to  the  express  wishes  of  the  king, 
Charles  sent  him  his  commands  to  go.  His  confiding 
loyalty,  which  would  not  suffer  him  to  disobey  the  call 
of  his  master,  completed  his  ruin.  Had  he  remained, 
he  must  have  triumphed  over  his  enemies;  but  this 
flight,  contrived  by  his  faithless  king,  served  to  spread 
a  general  conviction  of  his  guilt. 

Evelyn,  who  visited  him  during  his  misfortunes,  when 
many  who  had  been  in  the  habit  of  courting  his  atten- 
tion had  deserted  him,  was  with  him  the  evening  before 
he  fled.  "  I  found  him,"  he  writes,  "  in  the  garden  of 
his  new  palace,  sitting  in  his  great  wheel-chair,  seeing 
the  gates  setting  up  towards  the  north,  and  the  fields ; 
next  morning  I  heard  that  he  was  gone,  though  I  am 
persuaded  that  had  he  gone  sooner,  though  but  to 
Cornbury,  and  there  lain  quiet,  it  would  have  satisfied 
Parliament.  That  which  exasperated  them  was  his 
presuming  to  stay  and  contest  the  accusation  as  long  as 
'twas  possible,  and  they  were  on  the  point  of  sending 
him  to  the  Tower." 

10* 


HIS   FLIGHT. 


The  chancellor's  ruin,  it  is  related,  was  planned  and 
carried  out  in  the  Lady  Castlemaine's  chamber.  He 
had  deeply  offended  her  by  refusing  to  set  the  great 
seal  to  a  grant  of  land  which  the  king  would  have 
made  her.  When  she  heard  that  the  seal  had  been 
taken  from  him,  and  that  he  was  about  to  leave  Whitehall 
degraded,  she  started  out  of  bed,  and  rushed  to  the 
window  to  witness  his  melancholy  aspect.  The  king 
had  long  been  alienated  from  the  chancellor,  and  used 
to  call  him  "  that  insolent  man."  Bab  May,  one  of  the 
courtiers,  when  the  great  seal  was  brought  to  the  king, 
went  down  upon  his  knees  to  Charles,  and  congratu- 
lated him  that  he  could  now  be'  called  king  of  England. 
But  Charles,  naturally  penetrating,  was  not  blind  to  the 
real  worth  of  the  chancellor,  and  consented  to  sacrifice 
him  only  because  it  was  necessary  to  his  personal  ease. 
Sir  J.  Gerard  one  day,  to  widen  the  breach  between 
them,  told  the  king  that  the  chancellor  had  said  he  was 
"  lazy,  and  not  fit  to  govern."  "  Why,"  said  the  king, 
"  that  is  no  news,  for  he  has  told  me  so  twenty  times  to 
my  face." 

On  Saturday  night,  November  29th,  1667,  Clarendon 
set  out  from  the  new  palace,  now  so  nearly  completed, 
to  his  self-chosen  exile.  He  was  accompanied  by  his 
two  sons,  some  friends,  and  two  servants.  As  he  passed 
for  the  last  time  through  the  stately  halls,  and  threw  a 
parting  glance  upon  his  books  and  pictures,  he  little 
thought  that  the  most  tranquil  moments  of  his  life  were 
yet  to  come.  A  boat  was  in  waiting  for  him  at  the 


HE   LEAVES    AN    ADDKES3    TO    PARLIAMENT.  227 

pier;  and,  after  a  weary  passage  of  three  days,  lie 
finally  landed  in  France. 

He  left  behind  him  an  address  to  Parliament,  defend- 
ing his  conduct,  which  was  read  in  the  House  of  Peers 
by  the  Earl  of  Denbigh.  He  asserted  in  this  paper 
that  he  had  never  received  a  gratuity  from  any  man, 
and  that  he  owed  all  his  fortune  to  the  bounty  of  the 
king ;  that  he  was  in  debt  £20,000  ;  that  his  income  was 
less  than  two  thousand  pounds  a  year;  that  he  had 
never  possessed  that  influence  over  the  king  which  the 
country  had  attributed  to  him ;  and  he  denied  strenu- 
ously the  various  charges  which  were  alleged  against 
him  in  the  articles  of  impeachment.  This  apology  the 
Parliament  ordered  to  be  burnt,  and  a  sentence  of 
banishment  was  immediately  passed  against  the  author. 

In  the  meantime  Clarendon,  having  landed  in  France, 
found  himself  exposed  to  mortifications  and  sufferings, 
such  as  must  have  possessed  peculiar  bitterness  to  his 
haughty  spirit.  The  French  government,  at  first  dis- 
posed to  receive  the  distinguished  exile  with  compas- 
sionate attention,  having  formed  a  design  of  entering 
into  an  alliance  with  England,  resolved  to  propitiate  the 
people  of  that  country  by  their  harshness  towards  the 
unpopular  chancellor.  Sick,  poor  and  desponding,  Clar- 
endon hoped  to  find  a  resting-place  at  Rouen,  to  linger 
out  the  term  of  his  exile,  and  perhaps  of  his  life ;  but 
he  suddenly  received  orders  from  the  court  of  Paris  to 
leave  France  immediately.  He  went  to  Calais,  hoping 
there  to  find  a  ship  to  carry  him  to  Flanders  or  Spain ; 


228  HIS  ADVENTURES  AT  EVREUX. 

here,  as  he  lay  on  a  sick-bed,  messengers  arrived  from 
the  French  court  directing  him  to  leave  the  realm  with- 
out delay.  His  physician  in  vain  urged  that  death 
must  be  the  result  of  obedience  to  this  command :  the 
officers  of  the  government  told  him  that  if  he  did  not 
go  willingly,  he  must  be  carried  by  force.  Fortunately, 
however,  a  change  took  place  in  the  designs  of  the 
court, — the  alliance  with  England  was  abandoned ;  and 
Clarendon  was  finally  permitted  to  go  undisturbed  wher- 
ever he  chose. 

Hardly  had  this  anxiety  passed  over  before  his  life 
was  endangered  by  the  violent  hatred  of  his  own 
countrymen.  A  party  of  English  seamen,  drunken  and 
riotous,  being  at  Evreux  when  the  chancellor  arrived 
there,  resolved  to  see  him  and  demand  of  him  their 
back-pay,  which  they  alleged  was  withheld  from  them 
at  his  instigation.  They  flocked  around  the  inn  where 
he  lodged,  burst  open  the  gates,  and  rushing  to  the 
chancellor's  room,  which  had  been  barricaded  against 
them,  broke  open  the  door,  and  wounded  a  French 
gentleman  who  was  guarding  the  entrance.  Clarendon 
was  in  his  gown,  unable  to  stand,  and  sitting  upon  the 
edge  of  the  bed.  One  of  the  rioters  aimed  a  blow  at 
him  with  a  sword  which  fortunately  struck  him  with 
the  flat  part ;  he  was  stunned,  and  fell  fainting  upon 
the  bed.  They  called  him  a  traitor,  and  they  threat- 
ened that  if  he  did  not  pay  them  their  arrears,  they 
would  carry  him  back  to  England.  Some  searched  and 
rifled  his  pockets,  others  pillaged  his  trunk  and  clothes. 


CLARENDON   IN   EXILE.  229 

When  lie  awoke  from  his  swoon,  they  dragged  him 
from  the  room  into  the  open  court  and  were  about  to 
put  him  to  death  when  the  magistrates  of  the  town 
arrived  in  time  to  rescue  him.  The  rioters  were  after- 
ward seized,  tried,  and  three  of  the  most  guilty  were 
broken  on  the  wheel. 

The  remainder  of  Clarendon's  exile  was  marked  by 
a  pleasing  tranquillity,  in  which  he  gradually  forgot  the 
injustice  of  his  countrymen  and  the  neglect  of  his  king. 
He  went  first  to  Avignon,  where  he  was  received  with 
civility  by  all  the  chief  personages  of  the  place. 
From  thence  he  came  to  Montpellier,  where  in  the  close 
of  life  he  found  happiness  in  composing  his  history. 
He  did  not,  however  withdraw  from  society,  and 
received  constant  attention  from  the  governor  and  the 
nobility  of  the  place",  while  all  the  English  who  passed 
through  Montpellier,  came  to  visit  the  fallen  chancellor 
and  to  bring  him  tidings  from  England.  He  made 
several  applications  both  to  Charles  and  James  II.  to  be 
permitted  once  more  to  see  his  native  land  before  he 
died,  but  all  his  solicitations  were  refused.  Here  at 
Montpellier  he  wrote  his  "  Reflections  on  the  Psalms," 
his  answer  to  Hobbes's  Leviathan,  his  vindication  of  his 
own  conduct,  and  here  he  completed  his  "  History  of 
the  Rebellion." 

He  died  at  Rouen,  December,  1774,  leaving  four 
sons  and  two  daughters.  His  eldest  daughter,  the 
Duchess  of  York,  left  two  children,  Mary,  wife  of 
William  of  Orange,  who  ascended  the  throne  of  her 


230  HIS   FAMILY. 

exiled  father,  and  Anne,  the  successor  of  Mary.  His 
second  daughter  married  Sir  Thomas  Keightly,  a  knight 
of  the  Bath.  Of  his  sons,  one  was  drowned  at  sea ; 
Edward  died  a  student  at  law  in  the  Temple.  His  eldest 
son,  Henry,  the  inheritor  of  his  titles,  held  several  high 
offices ;  but  the  direct  line  of  his  descendants  in  the 
third  generation  sank  low  in  reputation  and  were  deeply 
involved  in  debt.  The  most  talented  of  his  children, 
Laurence  Hyde,  Earl  of  Kochester,  was  conspicuous 
during  the  reign  of  James  II.,  William  and  Mary,  and 
Anne.  He  was  impetuous,  hasty,  inclining  to  arbitrary 
principles,  and  clung  to  the  party  of  his  connection, 
James  II.,  until  he  was  dismissed  from  office  because 
he  could  not  abandon  his  Protestant  faith.  The  family 
of  the  chancellor,  so  elevated  by  his  good  fortune  and 
worth,  have  taken  their  place  among  the  historical 
aristocracy  of  England,  and  an  Earl  of  Clarendon  is 
still  conspicuous  among  the  leading  politicians  of  the 
conservative  party. 

Clarendon's  literary  position  is  not  high.  He  had  not 
much  learning  and  his  style  has  few  attractions.  Ho 
wrote  with  a  full  flow  of  language  and  a  stately  dignity 
that  pleased  his  contemporaries,  but  has  long  lost  all 
interest  for  the  general  reader.  Rather  a  writer  of 
memoirs  than  an  historian,  his  work  wants  method, 
arrangement  and  taste.  Some  of  his  characters  are 
boldly  drawn,  and  his  evident  fondness  for  literary  men 
renders  him  often  exceedingly  graceful  and  happy  in 
his  delineation  of  their  merits.  But  his  attention  to 


HIS  CHAKACTEK.  231 

public  and  professional  affairs  withdrew  him  too  much 
from  those  solitary  labors  necessary  to  the  perfection  of 
the  writer,  and  while  aspiring  to  be  an  author,  a  lawyer 
and  a  statesman,  he  failed  to  reach  real  eminence  in 
either  profession. 

In  character  he  was  pure,  honorable  and  just.  His 
decisions  as  lord  chancellor  were  always  honestly  given, 
and  were  never  tainted,  like  those  of  Bacon,  by  a  sus- 
picion of  corruption.  He  wras  a  tender  son  and  a  kind 
husband  and  parent.  His  love  of  ostentation  led  him 
into  debt,  but  no  one  ever  questioned  his  integrity.  He 
was  a  rigid  churchman,  loyal  almost  to  passive  obedience, 
strict  and  stately  in  manners  and  conduct;  but  he  wanted 
chiefly  more  elevation  of  feeling  and  more  liberality  of 
principle  in  politics  and  religion,  to  place  him  among 
those  who  are  of  service  to  their  generation  and  to 
posterity. 


GILBERT  BURNET,  BISHOP  OF  SALISBURY. 

POSTERITY  has  been  no  friend  to  Burnet,  Bishop  of 
Salisbury.  He  has  encountered  the  bitter  hatred  of 
Swift,  the  calm  contempt  of  Hume,  and  the  more  dis- 
criminating severity  of  Mr.  Macaulay.  Swift  hated 
Burnet  as  a  low-church  bishop  and  a  whig.  He  speaks 
of  his  character  and  writings  as  equally  contemptible. 
"  He  is  the  worst  qualified  for  an  historian  that  I  have 
ever  known,"  writes  the  angry  dean.  His  history  of 
his  own  times  to  Swift  was  only  a  mass  of  fables.  Its 
secret  narratives  were  only  coffee-house  scandals,  its 
observations  were  always  mean  and  often  false ;  the 
style  was  so  full  of  vulgarisms  that  the  author  must 
have  kept  low  company  in  order  to  have  learned  them. 
His  language  was  certainly  not  English ;  possibly  it 
might  be  Scotch  ;  the  book  was  full  of  malice,  misrepre- 
sentation and  vanity;  it  was  indecent,  it  was  full  of  bulls, 
of  silliness,  and  of  foppishness,  and  words  seem  to  fail  in 
expressing  the  contempt  which  Swift  would  lavish  on 
the  unlucky  history.  In  his  opinion  of  Burnet's  per- 
sonal character,  Swift  was  no  less  severe.  He  represents 


SEVERE    STRICTURES    ON   HIS    CHARACTER.  233 

Burnet  as  being  at  nineteen  a  little  Scotch  parson, 
affecting  to  be  of  importance;  as  having  drawn  in  the 
maiden  daughter  of  a  Scotch  earl  to  marry  him  for  his 
youth  and  vigor,  and  as  having  risen  through  all  the 
stages  of  his  successful  life  by  means  unworthy  of  an 
honest  and  right-minded  man.  Swift  was  never  mild 
when  he  spoke  of  a  whig  and  a  low-churchman,  and  he 
does  not  hesitate  to  call  Burnet  on  several  occasions  "  a 
dog"  and  "  a  villain." 

This  unfavorable  estimate  of  his  character  and  wri- 
tings is  countenanced  by  the  criticisms  of  Hume.  He 
ever  calls  Burnet  poor  authority,  he  speaks  of  him  with 
calm  contempt,  and  sees  in  the  ardent  and  honest  pre- 
late only  a  time-serving  courtier  and  an  intriguing  dis- 
sembler. 

To  Mr.  Macaulay,  Burnet  is  a  purer  but  not  a  more 
perfect  conception.  He  paints  him  vain,  meddling, 
egotistical,  and  weak.  He  is  despised  by  "William  and 
only  endured  by  his  friends.  He  does  not  doubt  his 
sincerity,  yet  he  will  not  elevate  him  in  our  esteem; 
and  he  passes  over  with  slight  notice  these  nobler  quali- 
ties, which  have  made  Burnet  worthy  of  the  highest 
respect  and  of  lasting  admiration. 

But  notwithstanding  these  unfavorable  criticisms, 
Burnet  was  the  most  famous  and  the  most  influential 
prelate  of  his  time.  He  was  looked  up  to  by  the  Pro- 
testant interest  of  England  as  its  champion  and  chief 
support,  against  the  secret  plottings  and  open  violence  of 
a  proselyting  court.  His  History  of  the  Reformation  in 


234:  HIS    TKUE   POSITION. 

England,  received  an  honor  that  was  never  paid  to  any 
other  book.  Its  author  was  thanked  by  Parliament  for 
his  able  defence  of  Protestantism,  and  requested  to  con- 
tinue it  in  another  volume.  The  history  became  a  joy 
to  English  Protestants,  an  object  of  loathing  to  the 
papist  court.  It  spread  all  over  Europe.  It  became 
everywhere  a  great  support  to  the  reformers,  and  a 
terror  to  its  opponents.  Burnet  was  admired  at  Rome 
and  at  Paris  as  an  honorable  foe :  at  Geneva  and  Am- 
sterdam as  a  defender  of  the  faith.  His  other  writings 
were  equally  well  received.  His  "Tour,"  his  "Transla- 
tion of  Lactantius,"  and  his  political  pamphlets  were  the 
delight  of  his  party  and  admired  by  all.  The  history 
of  his  own  times  so  decried  by  Swift  and  Hume  has  yet 
been  the  chief  authority  for  later  authors.  Hume  has 
made  far  greater  use  of  it  than  he  has  cared  to  allow, 
and  the  deeper  researches  of  Mr.  Macaulay  have  not 
shaken  its  authority.  It  must  still  remain  the  best  nar- 
rative of  those  striking  events  that  produced  and  accom- 
panied the  second  English  revolution. 

Far  from  being  an  insignificant  actor  in  these  scenes, 
Burnet  was  one  of  the  most  important  men  of  his  time. 
His  literary  success  and  his  active  talents  made  him 
conspicuous  even  in  early  youth.  At  twenty-three  he 
became  the  defender  of  the  persecuted  Presbyterians 
against  the  tyrannical  Scotch  bishops.  His  conduct 
was  approved  even  by  King  Charles.  Ten  years  after 
he  was  driven  out  of  Scotland  as  the  head  of  a  large  and 
dangerous  party.  Lauderdale  accused  him  of  being  the 


HIS   FAMILIARITY   WITH   KINGS   AND   COURTS.          235 

cause  of  all  the  opposition.  He  fled  to  London.  Here 
he  became  the  leader  of  the  English  Protestants.  He 
was  forced  again  to  fly  from  the  frowns  of  the  court. 
But  he  did  not  remain  in  exile  long.  Soon  he  returned, 
one  of  the  leaders  of  that  expedition  which  was  to  free 
England  for  ever  from  the  dread  of  Komanism. 

From  his  youth,  Burnet  was  the  friend  of  the  greatest 
and  best  men  of  his  time.  The  amiable  Leighton  was 
his  early  adviser  in  his  studies  and  his  constant  corres- 
pondent until  death.  Archbishop  Tillotson,  the  learned 
and  polished  preacher,  Bishop  Lloyd,  the  careful  orator. 
Bishops  Tenison  and  Patrick  were  his  constant  friends. 
He  retained  the  esteem  through  life  of  the  purest  men 
in  the  church. 

"With  kings  and  courts  he  was  singularly  familiar. 
The  dissolute  Charles  and  the  papist  James  both  found 
pleasure  in  his  society,  and  respected  his  frank  sincerity. 
When  he  came  to  Paris,  while  he  was  yet  only  a  parish 
Priest,  Louis  XIY.  placed  a  carriage  and  servants  at 
his  disposal,  and  directed  his  courtiers  to  pay  him  parti- 
cular attention.  On  entering  Rome,  the  pope  sent  him 
a  message  desiring  to  see  him,  and  offering  to  avoid  in 
his  case  the  ceremonial  usual  on  such  occasions.  When 
Burnet  fled  from  England  to  avoid  the  hostility  of 
James,  he  was  received  with  unusual  favor  by  the 
reserved  William  and  his  more  attractive  queen.  The 
States  of  Holland,  when  James  demanded  the  fugitive, 
defended  him  with  energy.  And  when  that  monarch 
offered  a  great  reward  for  his  seizure,  Burnet  walked 


236  THE    REMARKABLE    SCENES    HE   WITNESSED. 

boldly  through  the  streets  of  Hague  and  no  man  offered 
to  harm  him. 

His  friends  were  among  the  highest  nobility.  In 
youth  he  had  the  patronage  of  the  Duke  and  Duchess 
of  Hamilton  and  even  that  of  Lauderdale,  afterwards  his 
bitterest  foe.  Halifax,  the  tasteful  patron  of  all  literary 
men,  made  Burnet  frequent  offers  of  friendly  assistance. 
The  excellent  Eussell  and  the  patriotic  Essex  were  his 
constant  companions.  In  later  life,  he  was  one  of  the 
principal  men  at  court,  liked  by  almost  every  one  for 
his  good  nature  and  his  obliging  disposition.  Even  the 
bitter  Swift  is  forced  to  confess  that  "  after  all  he  was  a 
man  of  good  nature  and  generosity." 

Burnet  lived  through  one  of  the  most  stirring  periods 
of  English  history.  He  was  born  in  the  reign  of  Charles 
I.,  before  the  scaffold  had  closed  that  eventful  life ;  he 
died  when  under  George  I.  the  English  constitution  had 
settled  into  almost  its  present  form.  He  saw  in  youth 
the  protectorship  of  Cromwell.  He  listened  to  some  of 
those  long  sermons  which  were  preached  to  Charles  H., 
and  relates  how,  on  one  fast  day,  there  were  six  delivered 
before  the  youthful  king.  He  heard  the  shouts  of  joy 
that  swelled  over  England  at  the  Restoration.  He  wit- 
nessed the  popularity  of  the  restored  king  decline.  He 
shared  that  dread  of  Popery  which  filled  every  Protes- 
tant heart  in  England,  when  it  was  found  that  their  king 
was  a  secret  papist  and  his  successor  an  avowed  one. 
He  witnessed  calmly  the  fierce  excitement  of  Popish 
plot  and  the  execution  of  the  beloved  Russell.  He  saw 


ins  FATHEK.  237 

the  narrow-minded  James  endeavor  to  rebuild  in  Eng- 
land the  power  of  the  pope,  by  bribes  to  the  unyielding 
dissenters  and  threats  to  the  undaunted  church.  He 
fled  from  James'  tyranny  to  return  with  "William  and 
Mary.  He  saw  Protestantism  once  more  relieved  from 
its  terrors  and  a  free  government  established  in  England, 
which  has  been  its  best  assurance  of  religious  and  civil 
liberty.  He  lived  through  the  reign  of  Anne  to  write  a 
sincere  and  faithful  narrative  of  the  whole  of  this  busy 
period. 

Gilbert  Burnet,  Bishop  of  Sarum,  was  born  at  Edin- 
burgh, on  the  18th  September,  1643.  He  was  descended 
from  the  younger  branch  of  a  respectable  family  of 
Aberdeenshire.  His  father  was  generally  respected  and 
beloved.  His  character  was  singularly  pure.  He  prac- 
tised the  civil  law  until  Cromwell's  time,  when  he 
retired  from  his  profession,  because  he  could  not  take 
the  necessary  oaths  under  the  protector.  He  was  a 
churchman  with  liberal  sentiments  and  a  devoted  royal- 
ist through  all  political  changes.  He  possessed  excellent 
judgment  and  much  learning  and  talent,  but  an  unusual 
diffidence  is  said  to  have  prevented  his  rise  in  his  pro- 
fession. He  was  so  humane  that  he  would  never  receive 
a  fee  from  clergymen  or  the  poor.  A  great  part  of  his 
earnings  were  bestowed  in  charity.  His  wife  was  the 
sister  of  Johnstown,  Lord  Warristown,  the  head  at  the 
time  of  the  Presbyterian  interest.  But  "Warristown 
showed  little  favor  to  his  royalist  brother-in-law,  and 
Burnet  was  forced  on  three  occasions  to  fly  for  his  life 


238  BUKNET   STUDIES    LAW. 

from  Scotland.  During  Cromwell's  reign  he  retired  to 
Ms  estate,  refusing  all  offers  of  preferment  under  the 
new  government,  and  here  he  remained  until  the  Resto- 
ration. His  wife,  the  mother  of  the  future  bishop,  was 
a  Presbyterian  of  great  zeal  in  her  religion  and  propriety 
in  her  conduct. 

The  father  devoted  his  leisure  to  the  education  of  his 
sons.  He  seems  to  have  been  a  successful  instructor. 
At  ten  the  younger  Burnet  could  read  Latin  readily, 
and  entered  the  college  of  Aberdeen  to  acquire  Greek. 
Here  he  distinguished  himself  by  his  success  in  the 
languages  and  in  the  Scholastic  Philosophy.  At  four- 
teen he  was  made  master  of  arts.  This  early  proficiency 
speaks  either  the  unusual  talent  of  Burnet  or  the  low 
state  of  Scotch  education.  It  arose,  probably,  from  both 
causes.  The  Scottish  colleges  of  that  period  were  not 
strict  in  their  requirements,  and  the  young  student  was 
at  all  seasons  of  his  life  active  and  industrious.  Upon 
leaving  college  Burnet  commenced  the  study  of  his 
father's  profession,  the  civil  law. 

But  he  did  not  pursue  it  long.  It  was  a  time  of 
unusual  religious  excitement.  Violent  wars  had  but 
lately  been  waged  between  the  rival  sects.  In  Scotland 
the  tendency  to  theological  discussion  was  peculiarly 
strong.  As  yet  its  active  intellect  had  found  no  allure- 
ments in  philosophy  or  pure  literature,  and  had  fixed 
with  ardor  upon  doctrinal  debate.  Its  eminent  preachers 
had  gained  a  power  over  their  congregations  such  as  the 
prophets  of  Israel  might  have  exercised.  They  had 


BUT  PKEFEKS  THE  CHURCH.  239 

taught  tliem  the  nicest  subtleties  of  the  Calvinistic  faith., 
and  made  every  dogma  dearer  to  them  than  life  itself. 
The  meanest  Scotch  peasant  could  discourse  of  the  doc- 
trines of  Election  and  Free-will  in  a  manner  that  proved 
how  well  he  had  studied  and  understood  them.  His 
religion  was  the  chief  object  of  his  life,  the  theme  of  his 
daily  conversation.  His  conduct  was  usually  austere, 
but  he  was  even  more  severe  in  his  condemnation  of 
doctrinal  than  of  moral  failings. 

The  nobility  were  often  as  devout  as  the  peasantry. 
And  religion  formed  the  leading  interest  of  the  nation, 
the  subject  of  its  literature  and  the  source  of  its  policy. 

Among  such  influences  the  young  mind  of  Burnet 
could  not  fail  to  be  turned  towards  the  church.  His 
parents  were  both  likely  to  favor  this  choice.  He  began 
to  study  theology.  He  read  all  the  noted  polemics  and 
studied  both  sides  of  the  Protestant  and  Catholic  ques- 
tion? He  was  familiar  with  Bellarmine  as  well  as  with 
Chamier.  Fourteen  hours  a  day  he  devoted  to  study. 
At  eighteen  he  became  a  probationer,  a  term  used  in 
Scotland  for  one  who  was  licensed  to  preach  but  had  no 
settled  parish.  He  was  offered  a  living  by  his  friends, 
but  declined  it  because  he  thought  himself  too  young  to 
perform  its  duties  well.  His  time  was  now  passed  in 
the  society  of  eminent  divines.  Of  these,  Bishop  Leigh- 
ton  seems  to  have  been  the  most  useful.  The  bishop 
directed  him  in  his  course  of  reading  and  enforced,  by 
his  example,  those  liberal  principles  which  Burnet  had 
already  imbibed  from  his  parents. 


24:0  HE   TRAVELS. 

"When,  in  1661,  his  father  and  his  brother,  a  member 
of  the  bar,  died,  his  mother's  relations  endeavored  to 
prevail  upon  Burnet  to  give  up  the  church  and  assume 
his  father's  profession.  They  saw,  no  doubt,  that  his 
talents  were  well  suited  to  the  law  and  that  he  must 
attain  high  eminence  in  civil  life.  But  Burnet  clung  to 
his  profession.  He  had  adopted  it  upon  principle  and  no 
allurements  of  worldly  advantage  could  draw  him  from 
it. 

He  resolved  to  travel  before  taking  a  parish.  In 
1663  he  went  to  England.  His  family  influence  ena- 
bled him,  though  only  twenty,  to  become  known  to  the 
eminent  men  of  the  time.  He  became  acquainted  with 
Cudworth,  Pearson,  Patrick,  and  Tillotson,  men  looked 
upon  as  pillars  of  Episcopacy,  and  with  whom  he  after- 
wards lived  in  intimate  friendship  in  more  dangerous 
times.  He  conversed  with  the  free-thinking  Henry 
More,  and  knew  Burnet  his  namesake,  the  author  of  the 
once  famous  Theory  of  the  Earth.  For  a  young  man  of 
twenty  these  were  useful  acquaintances.  He  spent  six 
months  very  profitably  in  England,  and  then  returned  to 
Edinburgh,  where  a  living  was  pressed  upon  him  by 
Sir  Kobert  Fletcher  of  Saltown.  He  determined,  how- 
ever, upon  a  journey  to  the  continent.  He  had  seen 
the  great  lights  of  the  church  in  England,  he  was 
now  anxious  to  visit  the  seats  of  Protestantism  abroad. 

He  first  went  to  Holland,  at  that  time  the  most 
remarkable  country  in  Europe.  Holland  had  but 
lately  been  rescued  from  the  waves  and  from  the  mur- 


HE    PAUSES    AT    AMSTERDAM.  24:1 

derous  tyranny  of  Spain.  Yet  it  had  started  into  a 
sudden  prosperity  that  excited  the  envy  of  the  sur- 
rounding monarchs.  Its  narrow  territory  was  culti- 
vated like  a  garden,  and  its  busy  people  planted  and 
sowed  beneath  the  roar  of  the  North  Sea  billows.  Its 
harbors  sent  forth  great  fleets  such  as  no  other  nation 
could  equal.  Its  cities  were  marked  by  security  and 
neatness  at  a  time  when  Paris  and  London  were  beset 
by  robbers  and  covered  with  filth.  Its  government 
was  a  republic  in  the  midst  of  the  darkest  of  des- 
potisms. Its  religion  was  Protestant  when  Popery  was 
rising  from  its  discomfitures  with  a  power  more 
menacing  than  ever. 

Burnet  paused  at  Amsterdam  to  study  Hebrew  under 
a  learned  Rabbi,  but  he  learned  something  more  than 
Hebrew.  He  conversed  with  the  leaders  of  the  various 
sects  who,  under  the  free  government  of  the  States, 
gathered  around  them  their  adherents  and  assailed  each 
other  with  unsparing  violence.  Here  he  saw  the 
Armenian,  and  the  Calvinist,  the  Lutherans,  the  Unita- 
rians, the  Anabaptists,  and  the  Papists,  all  enjoying  a 
common  toleration,  and  engaged  in  incessant  theological 
discussions.  At  first  view  the  scene  was  not  encourag- 
ing to  the  young  Protestant.  He  could  hardly  look 
with  pleasure  upon  this  disunion  among  those  who 
should  have  united  against  a  common  foe.  But  upon 
conversing  with  the  leaders  of  these  sects  he  formed  a 
more  favorable  opinion  of  them.  He  found  them 
pious,  sincere,  and  devoted  men.  He  discovered  that 

11 


24:2  HIS    PARISH. 

their  warmth  in  debate  proceeded  from  their  very 
sincerity.  And  he  learned  from  this  view  of  opposing 
sects  not  to  scoff  at  all  religion  but  to  believe  that 
good  existed  in  all.  He  was  the  more  confirmed  in  his 
zeal  for  toleration,  a  principle  that  he  never  ceased  to 
advocate  until  his  death. 

From  Holland  he  went  to  Paris.  Here  he  became 
acquainted  with  many  learned  men,  and  listened  atten- 
tively to  the  famous  preachers  of  the  time.  He 
thought  them  too  declamatory,  but  gave  them  credit 
for  remarkable  talent.  In  the  reign  of  Louis  XIV. 
the  pulpit  of  Paris  flourished  equally  with  its  litera- 
ture. 

From  France  Burnet  returned  to  his  native  land. 
His  foreign  tour  had  added  much  to  his  knowledge 
without  destroying  his  early  piety.  He  came  back 
from  the  brilliant  society  of  the  continent  to  settle  as 
the  pastor  of  an  obscure  country  parish  at  Saltown. 
Here  he  stayed  nearly  five  years,  and  so  diligently 
performed  the  duties  of  his  station  as  to  win  the  general 
esteem  of  his  parishioners.  He  preached  twice  every 
Sunday,  and  at  least  once  during  the  week.  He 
cathechised  thrice  a  week,  administered  the  sacrament 
regularly,  and  visited  the  sick  and  poor  with  great 
assiduity.  His  benevolence  and  charity  were  conspi- 
cuous. He  was  fond  of  extemporary  preaching,  for 
which  he  prepared  himself  by  careful  meditation  upon 
his  subject.  Burnet  was  still  a  young  man,  but  his 
many  virtues  had  already  made  him  an  example  and  a 


EPISCOPACY   UNPOPULAR   IN   SCOTLAND.  243 

reproach  to  many  of  his  less  scrupulous  brethren  of  the 
church. 

Episcopacy  had  but  lately  been  forced  upon  the 
unwilling  Scotch.  The  majority  of  the  people  were 
Presbyterians.  Under  the  Parliament  and  Cromwell 
they  had  enjoyed  a  perfect  supremacy  of  the  Calvinistic 
form.  During  all  that  period  no  prelate  had  been  seen 
in  Scotland.  When,  therefore,  Charles  II.  forced  upon 
the  nation  a  new  system  of  worship,  and  built  up  by 
law  the  church  of  England  in  its  midst ;  when  the 
Scotch  saw  their  favorite  pastors  driven  from  their 
churches,  and  their  places  filled  by  an  unknown  crowd 
of  prelatical  divines ;  when  they  felt  that  in  future  they 
must  give  up  all  their  old  dogmas  and  worship  accord- 
ing to  the  will  of  a  tyrannical  king,  they  were  filled 
with  indignation.  Episcopacy  grew  more  unpopular 
than  ever.  The  great  body  of  the  nation  indeed 
submitted,  but  it  was  only  because  they  saw  no  hope 
of  successful  resistance.  In  some  parts  of  the  country 
the  more  violent  of  the  covenanters  still  continued  to 
hold  their  meetings  in  defiance  of  the  English  tyranny. 
These  unhappy  men  soon  felt  the  penalties  they  had 
incurred.  Even  in  the  desolate  moors  and  heaths  of 
the  western  Lowlands  where  they  had  stolen  away 
hoping  to  enjoy  the  prized  liberty  of  conscience,  they 
were  hunted  out  by  the  emissaries  of  government,  their 
meetings  broken  up  by  armed  force,  and  those  who 
were  taken  prisoners  exposed  to  such  tortures  and  pains 
as  only  Popery  in  the  times  of  bitterest  persecution  had 


244  CHARLES  ATTEMPTS  TO  INTRODUCE  IT  BY  FORCE. 

been  known  to  inflict.  They  were  cast  into  prison, 
beaten,  tortured,  and  hanged.  "Whole  districts  were 
exposed  to  the  cruel  ravages  of  dissolute  troopers  who 
hunted  from  house  to  house  for  the  concealed  cove- 
nanters. To  chase  a  covenanter  was  to  these  wretches 
as  good  sport  as  to  hunt  a  stag.  They  burst  into  the 
assemblies  of  faithful  worshippers  with  loud  oaths  and 
ribaldry,  such  as  would  have  become  a  legion  of  devils. 
They  shot  down  pastor  and  people  while  bent  in  prayer 
or  united  in  praise.  They  assumed  the  name  as  well 
as  the  conduct  of  demons,  and  their  captains  were 
known  as  Beelzebub,  or  Belial,  or  by  some  equally 
appropriate  title  even  among  their  own  people. 

By  such  means  did  King  Charles  attempt  to  convert 
his  subjects  in  Scotland  to  Episcopacy.  It  would  have 
required  uncommon  excellence  on  the  part  of  the 
ministers  of  that  church  to  remove  the  hostile  impression 
which  had  thus  been  produced.  Had  they  come  in 
meekness,  compassion,  and  a  self-sacrificing  spirit,  as  if 
resolved  to  heal  the  wounds  occasioned  by  an  injudi- 
cious government,  they  might  have  awakened  in  the 
minds  of  the  depressed  Scots  some  feeling  of  favor 
towards  those  who  could  thus  sympathize  with  their 
misfortunes. 

Yery  different  was  the  conduct  of  the  new  bishops, 
who  were  sent  from  England,  to  restore  Episcopacy. 
Even  Burnet  had  been  disgusted  by  the  idle  pomp  with 
which  they  made  their  triumphal  entry  into  Edinburgh. 
They  seemed  to  come  like  conquerors  triumphing  over 


LIVES    OF   THE   NEW   BISHOPS.  24:5 

a  fallen  people,  rather  than  as  ministers  of  a  faith  that 
professes  a  perfect  humility :  their  very  air  savored  of 
spiritual  pride,  and  their  priestly  robes,  long  unusual  in 
Scotland,  recalled  vividly  the  memory  of  papal  prac- 
tices and  persecutions.  Their  coming  seemed  a  fitting 
prelude  to  that  season  of  affection  under  which  the 
Scotch  Church  was  to  bow  in  sorrow  all  through  the 
rule  of  the  last  Stuarts,  and  which  was  to  be  ended 
only  when  the  great  grandson  of  Mary  should  be  driven 
forth  into  exile,  the  last  of  her  fated  line. 

The  lives  of  the  new  bishops  became  a  scandal  even 
to  the  Episcopalians  in  Scotland.  They  were  violent 
bigots  in  doctrine ;  they  neglected  their  most  necessary 
duties.  Some  never  entered  their  diocese :  others  passed 
their  time  in  the  society  of  men  of  loose  character  and 
open  impiety.  They  were  vain,  worldly  and  irreligious : 
they  took  no  pains  to  hide  even  their  vices,  and  seemed 
to  rely  wholly  upon  force  for  the  establishment  of  the 
Church  and  the  conversion  of  the  Scotch.  Persecution 
was  their  favorite  argument.  They  encouraged  the 
violent  policy  of  Charles,  and  the  cruel  extremities  to 
which  it  was  carried  by  his  ministers. 

To  the  mild  and  good-natured  Burnet  such  conduct 
on  the  part  of  the  heads  of  his  church  was  singularly 
displeasing.  His  good  feeling  was  shocked  by  the 
harsh  measures  which  they  advocated,  his  piety  revolted 
at  their  worldliness.  He  saw  the  impolicy  as  well  as 
the  impropriety  of  their  conduct :  himself  a  zealous 
defender  of  the  Episcopacy,  he  could  not  but  feel  that  the 


24:6  BI7RNET   OFFENDS    THE   RULING   PARTY. 

bishops  were  destroying  the  hopes  of  his  church:  he 
knew  that  the  majority  of  the  Scotch  were  people  of 
unusual  austerity  of  life,  and  not  apt  to  overlook  the 
failings  of  those  of  an  opposite  faith :  he  felt  that  the 
keen  glance  of  a  thousand  enemies  was  fixed  with  bit- 
ter exultation  on  those  scandals,  which  had  destroyed 
the  good  name  of  their  oppressors:  he  resolved,  not- 
withstanding his  youth,  and  the  danger  of  the  attempt, 
to  protest  against  their  policy  and  practice. 

At  twenty-three  he  drew  up  a  memorial,  recounting 
their  misconduct,  and  having  signed  it  distributed  seve- 
ral copies  among  his  friends.  It  created  much  interest. 
The  bishops  read  it,  and  were  enraged :  they  summoned 
the  young  parish  priest  before  them :  they  rebuked 
him  for  having  dared  to  advise  his  superiors : .  they 
charged  him  with  reflecting  on  the  king,  for  having 
called  them  to  his  councils;  at  least  they  demanded 
that  he  should  as,k  their  pardon  for  what  he  had 
done. 

Burnet  was  not  dismayed.  He  avowed  his  paper; 
and,  to  prove  that  it  was  no  anonymous  libel,  pointed 
to  his  name  at  the  close.  He  steadily  refused  to  make 
any  apology.  Sharpe,  Archbishop  of  St.  Andrews,  a  con- 
vert from  Presbyterianism,  and  the  source  of  the  most 
violent  counsels,  lead  the  prosecution  against  Burnet. 
But  even  Sharpe  was  alarmed  by  the  boldness  of  the 
young  priest.  He  began  to  suspect  that  Lauderdale  was 
his  instigator.  The  bishops  did  not  succeed  in  making 
Burnet  ask  pardon,  and  his  fame  was  widely  spread  by 


THE   DUCHESS    OF    HAMILTON.  247 

his  bold  conduct.  Lauderdale  was  greatly  pleased  with 
it,  and  mentioned  it  to  the  king.  Charles,  who  was 
fond  of  declaiming  against  the  bishops,  was  delighted 
with  the  whole  occurrence.  It  was,  perhaps,  one  cause 
of  Burnet's  favorable  reception  at  his  court. 

In  1668,  when  moderate  counsels  prevailed  in  Sect- 
land,  Burnet  was  much  consulted  by  the  government. 
In  1669,  his  reputation  for  learning  and  piety  led  to  his 
appointment  as  professor  of  divinity  at  Glasgow.  Here, 
it  is  said,  'his  moderation  made  him  unpopular  both 
with  Episcopalians  and  Presbyterians. 

He  had  now  made  the  acquaintance  of  the  Duchess 
of  Hamilton,  and  often  visited  her  at  her  house.  She 
seems  to  have  entertained  an  unusual  friendship  for 
Burnet.  His  good  qualities  were  such,  that  no  one 
who  knew  him  well  could  avoid  liking  him.  His  gene- 
rosity, candor,  good-nature  and  moderation  were  rare 
qualities  in  those  days  of  violent  factions  in  church  and 
state. 

At  the  Duchess  of  Hamilton's  house  he  met  Lady 
Margaret  Kennedy,  the  daughter  of  the  Earl  of  Cassillis. 
She  was  a  person  of  great  piety,  and  inclining  towards 
Presbyterianism,  was  probably  pleased  with  Burnet's 
moderation.  The  duchess  encouraged  the  young  cler- 
gyman to  offer  himself  to  this  lady.  She  possessed 
some  fortune,  and  was  an  advantageous  match  for  him. 
In  those  times,  says  the  biographer,  it  was  no  unusual 
thing  for  the  daughters  of  the  nobility  to  marry  clergy- 
men. It  is  to  be  hoped  that  the  good  custom  is  not 


24:8  BUBNET    MARRIES. 

changed.  They  are  married,  and  Burnet,  to  avoid  sus- 
picion of  mercenary  motives,  settled  the  lady's  fortune 
upon  herself.  She  was  many  years  older  than  himself, 
a  circumstance  that  gave  Swift  a  pleasant  topic  for 
ridicule. 

But  the  duchess  was  not  satisfied  with  giving  Burnet 
a  wife.  She  entrusted  him  with  the  papers  of  the  late 
Duke  of  Hamilton,  and  engaged  him  to  write  his 
Memoirs.  In  connection  with  this  charge,  Burnet  went 
twice  to  London.  In  his  first  visit  he  became  instru- 
mental in  reconciling  Lauderdale  with  the  Duke  of 
Hamilton.  In  1672  he  published  his  vindication  of  the 
Church  of  Scotland,  when  he  was  yet  under  thirty.  In 
1673  he  repaired  to  London  with  his  Memoirs,  to  obtain 
a  license  for  their  publication. 

Here  he  met  with  much  attention.  He  was  immedi- 
ately named  one  of  the  king's  chaplains  in  ordinary. 
The  Duke  of  Lauderdale  introduced  him  to  Charles, 
and  mentioned  to  the  king  the  subject  of  his  Memoirs. 
Charles  read  part  of  them,  expressed  his  approval,  and 
directed  that  they  should  be  licensed. 

Burnet  had  a  long  private  audience  with  the  king. 
They  talked  much  of  church  matters.  Charles's  mind 
was  evidently  won  over  to  Popery^.  Religious  contro- 
versy seems  to  have  been  the  only  subject  that  he  ever 
studied,  and  that  he  had  examined  in  a  superficial  man- 
ner. He  had  been  converted  by  the  weakest  arguments 
Romanism.  His  delight  was  to  jeer  at  the  failings  of 
churchmen.  He  disliked  Episcopacy  even  more  than 


IS    INTRODUCED   TO    THE   KING.  249 

Presbyterianism.  Charles  told  Burnet  that  the  Episco- 
palians when  they  argued  against  dissenters,  laid  great 
stress,  upon  the  authority  of  the  Church,  but  when  they 
wrote  against  Catholics,  they  neglected  it  entirely. 
Burnet  replied  by  explaining  to  him  the  difference 
between  authority  and  infallibility.  The  king  com- 
plained of  the  bishops  for  neglecting  their  churches, 
following  the  court,  and  entering  into  violent  political 
factions.  Burnet,  with  his  usual  boldness,  now  turned 
the  argument  upon  the  king,  the  head  of  the  church. 
He  reproved  his  immorality.  He  spoke  of  its  dangers, 
and  its  consequences.  Charles  was  living  in  open  licen- 
tiousness. His  court  emulated  their  monarch,  and  he  was 
accustomed  to  hear  nothing  but  the  language  of  gaiety 
and  license.  It  was  a  bold  act  therefore  for  the  young 
Scotch  priest  so  openly  to  assail  the  favorite  vices  of  his 
king.  Yet  Charles  was  not  offended.  He  liked  bold- 
ness. His  sensual  philosophy  was  not  easily  disturbed. 
He  only  replied,  "  that  he  did  not  believe  God  would 
damn  a  man  for  a  little  pleasure." 

The  Earl  of  Ancram,  next  introduced  Burnet  to  the 
Duke  of  York.  The  duke  asked  him  for  an  account  of 
affairs  in  Scotland,  but  Burnet  avoided  the  subject. 
They  then  talked  of  religion.  James  spoke  of  the  neces- 
sity of  an  infallible  church,  of  the  swarms  of  sectaries,  of 
the  rebellions,  and  massacres  which  had  sprung  from 
Protestantism,  of  the  death  of  his  father  and  his  ances- 
tress, Mary,  Queen  of  Scots.  Burnet  was  as  candid 
with  James  as  he  had  been  with  the  king.  He  pointed 


250  RETURNS   TO    SCOTLAND. 

out  to  him  how  ignorance  and  credulity  had  spread  over 
the  church  of  the  middle  ages ;  how  the  papal  preten- 
sion to  infallibility  had  been  the  true  source  of  all  reli- 
gious wars,  how  it  must  ever  continue  to  occasion  blood- 
shed and  disturbance.  James  professed  to  be  pleased 
with  Burnet,  and  Burnet  made  no  other  use  of  his  friend- 
ship than  an  attempt  to  convert  him.  He  begged  the 
duke  to  be  present  at  a  conference  in  which  Chilling- 
worth,  the  great  controversialist,  and  himself  would 
discuss  the  question  with  the  chief  leaders  of  the  Romish 
persuasion.  The  proposal  was  declined. 

When  Burnet  returned  to  Scotland,  he  found  party 
spirit  more  violent  than  ever.  Hamilton  and  Lander- 
dale  had  quarrelled.  The  latter  became  Burnet's  open 
enemy.  The  court  measures  had  failed  in  Parliament ; 
Lauderdale  threw  the  blame  of  the  failure  upon  Burnet. 
He  accused  him  of  being  the  leader  of  the  opposition. 
To  clear  himself  of  this  charge,  Burnet  went  again  to 
London.  Charles  had  been  so  incensed  against  him 
that  he  had  ordered  his  name  to  be  stricken  off  the  roll 
of  chaplains.  The  duke,  however,  remained  his  friend, 
and  brought  him  to  the  king.  Charles  became  con- 
vinced of  his  innocence  and  directed  him  to  return  to 
Glasgow.  But  the  violent  and  tyrannical  Lauderdale  was 
now  his  bitter  enemy.  He  could  not  return  to  Scotland 
without  danger  of  imprisonment.  The  time  for  modera- 
tion was  over  in  that  unhappy  country.  Even  the  duke 
cautioned  Burnet  against  venturing  in  the  power  of  his 
foes. 


HE   SETTLES    IN    LONDON.  251 

Burnet  must,  therefore,  seek  a  new  establishment. 
He  proposed  to  settle  in  London.  Here  a  large  party 
existed,  who  sympathized  with  his  own  moderation. 
Among  the  citizens  of  the  metropolis  he  was  certain  to 
find  audiences  who  would  delight  in  his  ready  extem- 
porary eloquence.  The  court  alone  opposed  his  project. 
However  much  they  might  respect  his  sincerity,  it 
could  not  but  be  unfavorable  to  the  designs  of  James 
and  Charles,  to  have  so  keen  and  popular  a  divine 
watching  their  movements,  and  perhaps  preparing  an 
early  opposition.  When  Burnet  decided  to  settle  in 
London,  he  felt  that  he  must  do  so  under  the  forms  of 
the  court.  He  was  first  offered  the  parish  of  St.  Giles, 
Cripplegate,  which  he  declined.  He  was  then  appointed 
preacher  of  the  Rolls  Chapel,  by  Sir  Harbottle  Grim- 
stone,  master  of  the  rolls. 

Burnet  entered  London  when  the  great  metropolis 
was  just  beginning  to  be  agitated  by  the  violence  of 
religious  excitement.  London  was  thoroughly  Pro- 
testant. Its  wealthy  merchants  and  hardy  apprentices 
still  cherished  a  jealousy  of  Popery.  Among  its  vast 
population  were  many  who  regretted  the  austere  days 
of  Cromwell,  and  who  looked  upon  the  gay  and  glitter- 
ing court  as  an  abomination  and  a  curse.  London  con- 
tained the  seeds  of  many  plots.  The  concealment  which 
its  narrow  streets  and  hidden  corners  offered  to  political 
offenders,  at  a  time  when  a  police  hardly  existed,  had 
made  it  the  refuge  of  all  who  desired  the  overthrow  of 
government.  They  were  safer  there  than  they  would 


252          THE   LONDONERS    HOSTILE   TO    THE    COUKT. 

have  been  in  the  heaths  of  Yorkshire.  ,  All  who  sought 
political  notoriety  hastened  up  to  the  capital :  all  who 
wished  for  eminence  of  any  kind  must  seek  it  there. 
The  huge  city  was  full  of  restless  spirits,  for  the  most 
part  dissatisfied  with  the  government,  who  were  ready 
to  join  in  every  movement  that  promised  to  be  popular 
and  to  swell  the  general  discontent.  When,  therefore, 
the  agitation  against  Romanism  commenced,  there  were 
thousands,  indifferent  to  all  religion,  who  aided  by  their 
unscrupulous  artifices  to  swell  the  public  alarm. 

London  had  long  suspected  and  disliked  the  court. 
The  contempt  which  the  courtiers  entertained  for  the 
unpolished  citizens,  had  been  returned  by  the  latter 
with  a  thorough  hatred.  The  morals  of  the  French 
regime  were  looked  upon  with  proper  loathing  by  the 
Puritanical  citizens.  But  when  it  was  rumored  that, 
with  foreign  manners,  Charles  had  also  brought  over  a 
foreign  religion,  the  dislike  of  the  city  increased  into  a 
suspicious  dread.  The  open  apostasy  of  the  Duke  of 
York  confirmed  this  feeling.  The  city  now  watched 
the  court  with  all  the  keenness  of  religious  zeal,  con- 
vinced that,  amid  its  trifles  and  its  pleasures,  it  enter- 
tained the  design  of  destroying  the  Protestant  faith. 
The  suspicion  was  well  founded.  Charles  had  already 
sold  the  consciences  of  his  countrymen  to  Louis.  He 
had  pledged  himself  to  profess  the  Romish  faith,  and  he 
only  delayed  the  avowal  of  his  determination  until  the 
moment  when  he  should  be  able  to  restrain  the  violence 
of  his  Protestant  subjects  by  a  standing  army. 


PERSECUTIONS   IN   SCOTLAND.  253 

The  House  of  Commons  shared  the  feeling  of  the  city. 
They  looked  with  suspicions  dread  upon  the  court: 
they,  too,  believed  that  a  design  had  been  formed  by 
the  king  to  deprive  them  of  their  civil  and  religious 
liberties.  They  had  lately  turned  their  attention  to 
Scotland,  and  had  beheld  there  a  scene  of  persecution 
and  oppression,  such  as  might  well  forewarn  them  of 
what  might  possibly  be  the  doom  of  their  own  country. 
Charles,  so  mild  and  tolerant  in  his  professions  to  his  Eng- 
lish subjects,  had  shown  no  mercy  to  the  Scotch.  His 
minister  Lauderdale  had  been  left  to  gratify  his  utmost 
cruelty  among  the  feeble  and  unprotected  convenanters. 
In  vain  had  the  Duke  of  Hamilton  and  the  liberal  party 
in  Scotland  remonstrated  against  those  enormities. 
Charles  sustained  his  minister  and  neglected  his  accusers. 
Lauderdale  heard  of  their  failure,  and  redoubled  his 
oppressions :  he  sold  favors,  offices  and  even  justice. 
The  whole  government  of  Scotland  fell  into  his  hands  ; 
and  he  reigned  over  that  kingdom  more  like  a  Roman 
proconsul  than  the  minister  of  a  constitutional  king. 

His  violent  conduct  awakened  the  indignation  of 
the  House  of  Commons.  They  commenced  an  inquiry 
into  his  measures,  and  among  other  witnesses  summoned 
Burnet.  They  de'manded  that  he  should  give  an  account 
of  Lauderdale's  conduct.  Burnet  hesitated.  Much  as 
he  hated  the  minister's  tyranny,  he  would  not  repeat 
what  he  had  heard  only  in  private  conversation.  Four 
times  he  was  summoned  to  the  bar  of  the  House,  and 
urged  to  answer.  At  length  he  yielded  when  he  had 


254  BURNEf    AS    A    PREACHER. 

been  threatened  with  the  effects  of  their  high  dis- 
pleasure. He  confessed  that  he  had  heard  Lauderdale 
say  that  he  wished  the  Presbyterians  of  Scotland  would 
revolt,  that  he  might  bring  over  the  Irish  papists  to  cut 
their  throats.  Notwithstanding,  however,  the  efforts  of 
the  Commons,  Charles  still  sustained  Lauderdale. 

As  a  preacher,  Burnet  was  highly  esteemed  in  the 
capital.  His  church  was  always  crowded  with  hearers : 
his  zealous  extemporary  preaching,  and  his  moderate 
principles  recommended  him  to  dissenters  as  well  as  to 
churchmen.  In  the  common  dread  of  Popery  the  lines 
of  sectarian  difference  seemed  to  grow  faint  and  indis- 
tinct. He  now  won  the  support  of  all  Protestants  by 
his  controversial  writings.  In  17T6  he  published  an 
account  of  the  discussions  between  himself,  Stillingfleet 
and  the  Jesuit  Coleman. 

The  origin  of  this  discussion  was  curious :  Sir  Philip 
Tyrwhit,  a  papist,  had  fallen  in  love  with  a  Protestant 
lady,  and,  to  gain  her  affections,  professed  himself  of 
the  same  faith  with  herself.  The  lady  suspected  his 
sincerity ;  but,  to  quiet  her  scruples,  he  took  the  sacra- 
ment with  her  in  the  Protestant  form.  They  were  mar- 
ried. After  marriage  the  fatal  secret  was  revealed.  The 
lady  found  that  she  had  linked  herself  for  life  with  one 
who  believed  her  to  be  a  heretic,  and  for  ever  lost. 
They  lived  together  for  some  time  unhappily.  At  last 
the  wife  determined  to  attempt  the  conversion  of  her 
husband.  She  came  to  Burnet  to  request  his  aid.  It 
was  arranged  that  he  and  Stillingfleet  should  discuss 


HIS   ARGUMENT  WITH   COLEMAN.  255 

the  points  of  faith  with  any  Romish  divines  that  might 
be  willing  to  meet  them  in  the  presence  of  herself  and 
her  husband.  A  day  was  appointed:  the  two  Pro- 
testants appeared.  They  found  the  Jesuit  Coleman 
waiting  to  oppose  them.  The  argument  took  place,  and 
-Burnet  recorded  and  published  it.  Coleman  was  secre- 
tary to  the  Duke  of  York,  and  active  in  making  prose- 
lytes. The  public  sided  with  Burnet ;  but  unfortunately 
the  lady  with  Coleman.  Some  time  after  she  yielded 
her  religion  to  the  arguments  of  the  Jesuit,  or  the 
solicitations  of  her  husband. 

The  publication  of  this  argument  gave  Burnet  great 
weight  with  the  Protestant  party.  He  wrote  in  a 
manner  plain  and  popular.  He  knew,  too,  how  to  suit 
his  subject  to  the  public  taste.  His  History  of  the 
Reformation,  which  appeared  soon  after,  possessed 
an  interest  that  appealed  to  every  Englishman. 

The  dread  of  Popery  had  now  assumed  a  definite  form. 
It  was  believed  firmly  by  three-fourths  of  the  Protestants 
that  a  great  plot  for  the  destruction  of  their  faith  had 
just  been  discovered.  It  was  a  scheme  of  the  Jesuits 
by  which  the  Romanists  were  to  massacre  their  Pro- 
testant neighbors  and  assassinate  the  king.  They  were 
to  set  fire  to  London  and  call  in  a  French  army.  This 
story  was  sustained  by  the  discovery  of  some  papers 
belonging  to  Coleman,  the  Jesuit,  and  by  the  murder 
of  Godfrey,  the  justice,  before  whom  the  deposition  of 
the  informer,  Gates,  had  been  taken.  The  House  of 
Commons,  the  city  of  London,  and  the  greater  part  of 


256  HIS    HISTOBY    OF   THE   KEFOEMATION. 

the  nation,  were  seized  with  an  alarm  approaching  mad- 
ness. Protestants  in  their  terror  adopted  something  of 
the  persecuting  spirit  of  their  opponents.  The  prisons 
were  crowded  with  papists.  In  the  courts  of  justice  the 
lives  of  innocent  men  were  sacrificed  upon  the  oaths  of 
the  vilest  of  mankind.  The  terror  was  increased  by  new 
informers  who  every  day  added  something  to  the  horrors 
of  the  plot,  until  even  in  the  midst  of  London  no  citizen 
could  feel  safe  unless  he  was  armed  and  saw  the  guard 
patrolling  from  street  to  street. 

The  plot  was  a  fiction,  yet  there  was  good  ground  for 
Protestants  at  that  moment  to  tremble.  They  felt  that 
their  king  was  a  papist  and  in  close  alliance  with  Louis. 
Romanism  in  many  years  had  not  presented  so  imposing 
an  aspect.  France,  the  ruling  power  in  Europe,  over- 
awed the  Protestant  states  and  seemed  about  to  over- 
whelm them.  Its  ambitious  king  was  a  bigot  in  matters 
of  religion.  He  stood  ready  at  a  moment  to  interfere 
in  the  affairs  of  England,  and  to  aid  her  traitorous  mon- 
arch to  destroy  the  liberty  of  his  subjects. 

In  this  moment  of  alarm  Burnet's  History  appeared. 
It  recounted  the  story  of  the  English  Reformation.  It 
set  in  a  fair  light  the  arguments  upon  which  the  church 
of  England  rested.  It  renewed  the  memory  of  Popish 
persecution  and  intolerance. 

No  book  was  ever  better  received.  It  was  greeted 
with  loud  applause  from  all  Protestants.  Parliament 
thanked  the  author  for  his  first  volume  and  begged 
him  to  continue  it — an  honor  which  it  has  never  paid 


HE   MAKES    A    STRANGE   CONVERT.  257 

to  any  author  before  or  since.  It  was  translated  into 
French,  Latin  and  German,  and  whereverit  went  became 
the  text-book  of  the  Protestant,  an  object  of  loathing 
and  alarm  to  his  opponents. 

During  the  Popish  jplot  Burnet  acted  with  his  usual 
moderation.  He  endeavored  to  save  the  lives  of  several 
of  the  accused.  And  he  was  frequently  consulted  by  the 
king.  Charles  offered  to  make  him  Bishop  of  Chichester 
if  he  would  come  into  his  measures.  Burnet  declined. 

About  this  time  he  made  a  singular  convert.  He  had 
been  called  to  attend  the  sick-bed  of  one  of  the  victims 
of  Wilmot,  Earl  of  Rochester.  The  writings  and  the 
life  of  that  nobleman  were  equally  profligate.  He  is 
remembered  for  having  written  the  most  licentious 
volume  of  poetry  in  the  language,  and  for  having  lived 
a  most  dissolute  life.  Yet  at  this  time  he  had  grown 
weary  of  his  vices,  and  learning  how  assiduously  Burnet 
had  visited  the  lady,  sought  his  acquaintance.  The 
acquaintance  grew  into  intimacy.  Once  a  week  the 
earl  and  Burnet  met  to  go  over  the  leading  objections 
against  Christianity,  and  to  converse  upon  religious 
topics.  Burnet  believed  that  he  had  made  a  sincere 
convert  of  Wilmot.  He  published  in  1680  an  account 
of  their  conferences. 

The  effect  which  he  had  had  upon  the  courtier  led 
him  to  attempt  the  conversion  of  the  king.  The  incident 
bears  a  close  resemblance  to  that  of  his  interview  with 
Wilmot,  He  was  summoned  to  the  dying  bed  of  Mrs. 
Eoberts,  once  the  mistress  of  Charles.  He  visited  her 


258  ATTEMPTS    THE    CONVERSION    OF   THE   KING. 

often  and  believed  her  to  be  penitent.  As  some  atone- 
ment for  her  past  faults  he  urged  her  to  write  a  letter  to 
the  Mng,  warning  him,  as  with  her  dying  voice,  of  the 
dangers  of  a  life  of  immorality.  At  her  request  Burnet 
drew  up  the  letter,  but  the  sick  woman  had  never  suffi- 
cient strength  to  write  it.  He  then  resolved  to  write 
himself,  as  he  says,  a  very  plain  letter  to  the  king.  He 
set  before  Charles  his  whole  past  life,  the  effect  of  his 
own  example  upon  his  people,  the  judgments  which  had 
already  befallen  him  and  those  to  which  he  might  justly 
look  forward.  He  alluded  to  the  ill-success  of  the  king 
in  all  his  plans,  both  foreign  and  domestic,  as  a  proof 
that  he  had  forfeited  the  favor  of  heaven.  It  was  the 
anniversary  of  the  beheading  of  Charles  I.  Burnet, 
indelicately  yet  with  the  purest  motive,  ventured  to  tell 
Charles  that  what  had  befallen  his  father  on  the  30th 
January  should  move  him  to  regard  this  appeal.  He 
carried  the  letter  himself  to  the  palace  and  gave  it  to 
Chiffinch,  the  confidential  servant  of  the  king.  Chiffinch, 
who  had  often  borne  missives  of  a  very  different  import, 
never  carried  one  so  startling.  Lord  Arran  told  Burnet 
afterwards  that  he  had  held  the  candle  while  Charles 
read  it.  He  read  it  attentively  twice  over  and  then 
threw  it  in  the  fire.  When  Arran  mentioned  Burnet's 
name  some  time  after,  the  king  spoke  of  him  with  great 
sharpness. 

This  rather  indelicate  proceeding  was  in  keeping  with 
Burnet's  whole  character.  His  disposition  was  warm 
and  hasty.  He  never  saw  a  wrong  that  he  did  not 


HIS   VARIOUS   WORKS.  259 

hasten  to  redress  it.  Where  others  would  have  been 
restrained  by  modesty  or  good'  taste,  Burnet  broke 
through  the  usages  of  society  in  pursuit  of  a  good  object. 
Thus,  when  he  had  just  succeeded  in  reforming  "VVilmot, 
his  warmth  of  feeling  urged  him  to  attempt  the  conver- 
sion of  Charles.  His  good  heart  was  touched  by  the 
spectacle  of  that  thoughtless  monarch  destroying  himself 
and  corrupting  his  people.  He  wrote,  therefore,  in  a 
strain  so  bold  and  urgent  as  none  but  himself  would 
have  ventured  to  employ.  He  wrote  at  the  hazard  of 
giving  deadly  offence.  It  was  no  light  matter  to  rebuke 
the  vices  of  a  tyrannical  king,  to  recall  to  his  memory 
the  disgraceful  termination  of  his  wars,  and  to  warn  him 
to  avoid  the  fate  of  his  unhappy  father.  Yet  Burnet 
ventured  all  for  the  sake  of  doing  Charles  a  service. 
Perhaps  he  never  once  thought  of  the  consequences. 

The  excitement  of  the  Popish  plot  passed  away.  Its 
violence,  which  had  for  a  time  intimidated  the  court, 
was  succeeded  by  a  reaction  in  its  favor.  Charles, 
towards  the  close  of  his  reign,  abandoned  all  pretence 
of  moderation.  He  became  almost  as  tyrannical  as  his 
father. 

Burnet  was  never  idle.  His  church  was  thronged. 
He  preached  with  untiring  fervor.  He  wrote  inces- 
santly. In  1682  he  published  three  works,  his  life  of 
Sir  Matthew  Hale,  a  second  volume  of  the  History, 
and  a  reply  to  an  attack  upon  that  book.  He  was 
offered  preferment  if  he  would  come  over  to  the  court 
measures,  but  he  steadily  declined  it.  His  friends  were 
numerous  and  powerful.  Lord  Russell,  the  Earl  of 


260  THE    RYE-HOUSE  PLOT. 

Essex,  Halifax,  Tillotson,  Chillingworth,  and  many 
others  delighted  in  his  society.  So  incessant  were  the 
calls  at  his  house  that  he  found  himself  obliged  to  avoid 
society  by  a  singular  expedient.  He  built  a  laboratory 
and  for  a  year  gave  himself  up  to  experiments  in 
chemistry.  His  versatile  mind  had  been  charmed  by 
the  novelty  of  a  science  that  was  just  becoming  popular 
in  England.  Here,  immersed  in  a  new  study,  he  kept 
aloof  from  politics,  and  avoided  those  rash  counsels 
which  towards  the  close  of  the  reign  of  Charles  engaged 
the  attention  of  the  leaders  of  his  party. 

"When  the  Ryehouse  plot  was  discovered,  it  was 
generally  believed  that  he  would  be  found  implicated 
in  it,  since  two  of  his  most  intimate  friends,  Essex  and 
Russell,  were  of  the  number  of  those  arrested.  But 
Burnet  had  acted  on  this  occasion  with  more  than  his 
usual  caution.  He  had  candidly  told  those  noblemen 
that  he  was  resolved  to  reveal  any  treasonable  designs 
he  might  chance  to  hear,  and  they  had  been  careful 
not  to  commit  themselves  in  his  presence. 

Yet  when  the  earl  and  Lord  Russell  were  committed 
to  the  Tower,  Burnet  manfully  stood  by  them  to  the  last. 
He  was  strongly  attached  to  Lord  Russell.  He  was 
with  him  constantly  in  his  imprisonment.  Burnet  was 
not  a  writer  of  great  sensibility,  but  even  the  history  of 
his  own  times  grows  touching  when  he  relates  the  last 
scenes  of  Russell's  life.  He  paints  the  patience,  firm- 
ness, and  piety  of  his  friend  with  a  simplicity  that  is 
almost  artistic. 

The  night  before  his  execution,  Russell  conversed 


EXECUTION    OF   HIS    FRIEND   KUSSELL.  261 

calmly  with  Burnet  and  Tillotson  upon  religious  topics. 
He  said  he  thought  a  sudden  death  desirable.  His 
own  calm  courage  sustained  the  spirits  of  his  friends. 
His  children,  some  of  whom  were  quite  young,  were 
brought  in,  and  he  took  leave  of  them  with  composure. 
His  lady  next  came.  She  endeavored  to  command  her 
feelings  and  parted  from  her  husband  without  disturb- 
ing his  calmness.  Russell  then  retired  to  his  chamber. 
It  was  now  midnight.  Burnet  waited  all  night  in  an 
outer  room.  At  two  Russell  laid  down,  and  was  fast 
asleep  at  four,  when  he  was  called.  He  rose  and 
dressed  quickly.  He  was  told  that  the  plot  had  proved 
to  be  unfounded,  and  said  he  rejoiced  at  it  for  the  sake 
of  his  party.  He  asked  Burnet  what  he  should  give 
the  executioner,  and  was  told  ten  guineas.  Even  at 
that  moment  a  ludicrous  idea  arose  in  his  mind.  "  It 
is  a  pretty  thing,"  said  he,  "  that  one  should  pay  for 
having  his  head  cut  off." 

At  ten  o'clock  the  sheriff's  officers  came  to  carry  him 
to  the  place  of  execution.  He  accompanied  them 
without  reluctance.  Burnet  and  Tillotson  went  with 
him.  A  crowd  surrounded  them  as  they  passed,  some 
of  whom  insulted  the  prisoner,  and  others  wept  at  the 
spectacle.  Russell  was  touched  by  the  affection  of  the 
one,  but  showed  no  anger  at  the  others.  As  he  beheld 
the  crowd  gathered  around  the  scaffold,  he  said  he 
hoped  soon  to  be  in  a  much  better  assembly.  Having 
alighted,  he  walked  four  or  five  times  around  the 
scaffold.  He  delivered  his  last  speech  to  the  sheriff. 


262         HIS   SPEECH   PROBABLY   WKITTEN   BY   BITKNET. 

He  prayed;  then  bared  his  neck,  and  laid  his  head 
upon  the  block.  It  was  cut  off  in  two  blows. 

So  beloved  was  Russell,  that  the  night  before  his 
execution  Lord  Cavendish  came  to  beg  him  to  ex- 
change clothes  with  him  and  make  his  escape,  while  he 
remained  in  his  stead.  But  Russell  would  not  expose 
his  friend  to  danger.  They  embraced  tenderly,  but 
when  Cavendish  was  turning  away  Russell  turned  to 
him  again  and  besought  him  to  apply  himself  to  reli- 
gion, expressing  to  him  how  great  a  support  and 
comfort  he  now  found  in  it  in  his  extremity.  The 
Duke  of  Honmouth  also  sent  him  word  that  he  would 
surrender  himself  if  it  would  produce  his  release. 
Russell  replied  that  "  it  would  be  no  advantage  to  him 
to  have  his  friends  die  with  him." 

The  speech  which  he  had  delivered  to  the  sheriffs 
was  supposed  to  be  the  production  of  Burnet.  It  pro- 
fessed his  zeal  for  the  church  of  England ;  his  desire 
that  churchmen  would  be  less  severe,  dissenters  less 
scrupulous.  He  avowed  his  firm  belief  in  the  Popish 
plot.  He  proclaimed  his  innocence,  and  asserted  that 
he  was  killed  by  law,  the  worst  kind  of  murder.  He 
hoped,  he  said,  that  it  might  end  with  him. 

This  speech  gave  great  offence  to  the  court.  Burnet 
and  Tillotson  were  summoned  before  a  cabinet  council 
and  charged  with  being  its  authors,  Tillotson  easily 
proved  his  innocence ;  he  had  only  heard  the  speech 
read.  But  Buraet  was  more  strongly  suspected.  Its  sen- 
timents and  its  composition  sounded  like  his  own.  He 


BUJKNET   IN   PARIS.  263 

was  known  to  be  daring  and  hostile  to  the  court,  and  it 
was  only  by  unusual  caution  that  he  had  escaped  the 
fate  of  his  friends.  Had  a  shadow  of  proof  existed 
against  him,  he  would  have  been  one  of  the  earliest 
victims  of  the  cruel  policy  of  Charles.  Burnet,  how- 
ever, defended  himself  boldly.  He  addressed  himself 
to  the  king.  He  told  him  that  at  the  request  of  his 
lady  he  had  written  down  a  minute  account  of  every 
event  during  his  attendance  upon  the  prisoner.  Charles 
desired  him  to  read  it.  He  did  so.  The  king  listened 
attentively,  and  seemed  astonished  at  many  particulars. 
The  lord  keeper  asked  Burnet  if  he  intended  to  print 
it.  Burnet  replied  that  it  was  written  only  for  his 
lady's  use.  He  retired  from  the  council  unharmed,  but 
convinced  that  he  could  110  longer  be  safe  in  England. 

He  went  over  to  Paris.  It  was  the  reign  of  Louis 
XIY.j  and  the  French  metropolis  reflected  the  gaiety 
and  magnificence  of  its  king.  In  the  splendor  of  that 
opening  reign,  no  one  could  foresee  how  dark  would  be 
its  close.  No  one  could  dream  that  the  gay  and  stately 
monarch,  who  now  gave  law  to  Europe,  and  held  Eng- 
land as  his  tributary,  would  behold,  before  he  died, 
his  finest  armies  defeated,  his  flourishing  kingdom 
impoverished,  and  his  cherished  glory  tarnished  by  the 
successors  of  the  feeble  Stuarts.  In  France,  all  was 
magnificence  and  exultation.  Everything  conspired  to 
gratify  the  vanity  of  its  king.  He  chose  to  encourage 
letters,  and  a  crowd  of  gifted  men  sprang  up  to  cele- 
brate his  victories  and  adorn  his  reign.  The  drama  and 


264:  HIS   WIDE   KENOWN. 

the  arts  flourished  in  France,  as  they  had  never  done 
before.  The  pulpit  resounded  with  the  unrivalled  elo- 
quence of  Massillon  and  Bourdaloue.  Great  generals 
appeared  at  the  head  of  the  French  armies,  more 
renowned  than  all  their  predecessors,  and  skillful  states- 
men arose  who  could  carry  out  the  magnificent  plans 
of  Louis.  To  visit  Paris  in  those  days,  was  to  go  to  the 
source  of  luxury,  elegance,  and  good  taste.  From 
thence  English  writers  borrowed  their  rules  of  compo- 
sition, as  English  milliners  did  the  style  of  bonnets. 
The  literature  of  France,  the  taste  of  Paris,  were  the 
standard  of  Europe. 

Burnet's  reputation  had  gone  before  him.  His 
writings  were  well  known  to  all  Roman  Catholics.  The 
active,  bustling,  Scotch  clergyman  was  received  in 
Paris  with  unusual  honors.  Rovigny,  the  uncle  of  his 
friend,  Lady  Russell,  took  great  pains  to  make  him 
known  to  every  person  of  eminence.  Here  he  first 
made  the  acquaintance  of  Marshal  Schomberg,  who  was 
afterwards  to  share  with  him  -the  dangers  and  the 
triumphs  of  the  expedition  of  "William  against  England. 
"While  Burnet  was  at  court,  one  of  the  king's  coaches 
was  sent  to  wait  upon  him,  and  the  courtiers  were 
directed  to  pay  him  marked  attention.  He  was  even 
told  that  a  pension  would  be  offered  him. 

The  Marshal  Bellefont  had  been  introduced  to  Burnet. 
The  marshal  was  a  Roman  Catholic  of  unusual  piety, 
spending  much  time  in  reading  the  scriptures,  and  prac- 
ticing the  virtues  of  a  hermit  in  the  midst  of  a  dissolute 


THE  DUCHESS  DE  LA  VALIERE.          265 

court.  He  was  very  weak  but  sincerely  pious.  This 
good  man  formed  the  design  of  converting  Burnet.  Not 
confident,  however,  of  his  own  powers  of  persuasion,  he 
determined  to  make  the  beautiful  Duchess  de  la  Yaliere, 
who  had  retired  in  penitence  to  a  convent,  the  instru- 
ment of  the  conversion.  The  duchess  desired  Burnet 
to  come  to  the  grated  window  of  her  convent,  and 
converse  with  her  upon  the  topic  of  religion.  There  she 
recounted  to  him  the  steps  of  her  conversion.  How 
she,  who  had  shone  in  the  brightest  of  earthly  courts, 
had  come  with  weeping  and  lamentation  over  her  past 
errors,  to  submit  to  the  strict  discipline  of  the  Carme- 
lites. Although  the  duchess  did  not  succeed  in  her 
object,  yet  Burnet  was  convinced  of  her  piety  and  con- 
trition. His  intercourse  with  these  and  other  Roman 
Catholics,  gave  him  a  better  opinion  of  their  religion 
than  was  common  among  Protestants.  He  found  them 
of  great  austerity  of  life,  and  shocked  at  the  immorality 
and  impiety  which  prevailed  among  the  higher  orders 
of  their  clergy.  They  were  anxious  for  a  reformation 
in  their  church.  He  was  introduced  to  the  famous 
Bourdaloue,  and  was  charmed  with  his  mildness  of  man- 
ner and  excellent  heart.  He  met  also  many  Protestants 
who  had  hastened  to  visit  him  as  the  great  defender  of 
their  faith.  They  yet  lived  on  peacefully  among  their 
Romanist  brethren,  unconscious  of  the  dark  days  that 
were  approaching.  The  Edict  of  Nantes  was  not  yet 
revoked. 

Burnet  prepared  to  return  home.    His  friends  advised 

12 


266  HE   FLIES   TO   THE   CONTINENT. 

him  not  to  venture  into  England,  but  he  replied  that  he 
was  conscious  of  no  crime.  Soon  after  his  return  to 
London,  the  dislike  of  the  court  showed  itself  openly, 
and  he  was  forbidden  to  lecture  and  preach  at  the  Rolls 
chapel. 

Charles  died.  A  Roman  Catholic,  the  first  since  the 
reign  of  Philip  and  Mary,  sat  on  the  throne  of  England. 
Burnet  felt  that  he  was  not  safe.  He  availed  himself 
of  the  lenity  which  marked  the  opening  of  the  rule  of 
James  to  obtain  permission  to  travel.  Halifax  inter- 
ceded for  him,  and  he  was  suffered  to  depart.  James 
no  doubt  often  regretted  that  he  had  allowed  the  active 
and  popular  Scotchman  to  escape  unharmed. 

Burnet  fled  to  the  continent.  He  determined  to 
spend  some  time  in  travelling.  But  the  continent  pre- 
sented a  mournful,  disheartening  spectacle  to  the  Pro- 
testant divine.  Everywhere  he  beheld  the  persecution 
and  decline  of  his  own  faith,  the  triumph  of  his  oppo- 
nents. 

The  year  1685  was  a  fatal  one  for  Protestantism.  In 
February  a  papist  ascended  the  English  throne.  In 
June,  the  elector  of  the  Palatinate  became  a  Catholic. 
In  October,  the  King  of  France  revoked  the  Edict  of 
Nantes,  and  startled,  all  Protestant  Europe  by  the  spec- 
tacle of  a  general  persecution  of  his  dissenting  subjects. 

Continental  Protestants  bowed  their  heads  in  shame 
and  horror.  The  strongholds  of  their  faith  were  broken 
up.  England,  which  had  so  long  awed  their  enemies, 
seemed  ensnared  into  their  hands.  The  states  of  Hoi- 


PERSECUTION    OF   THE  PROTESTANTS.  267 

land  were  intimidated.  Calvinistic  Geneva  trembled 
for  its  own  independence.  While  every  Protestant  city 
was  crdwded  with  troops  of  naked  and  starving  fugitives, 
who  had  fled  from  France  to  bear  witness  to  the  bitter- 
ness of  spirit  with  which  the  mildest  papist  viewed  their 
heretical  faith. 

At  the  moment  when  the  persecution  of  the  Pro- 
testants was  at  its  height,  Burnet  made  a  tour  through 
the  southern  provinces  of  France.  With  his  usual  daring 
he  flung  himself  in  the  midst  of  danger,  to  observe  and 
to  record  the  sufferings  of  the  church.  His  mild  and 
tolerant  nature  glowed  with  indignation  at  the  horrors 
which  he  beheld.  Men  and  women  of  all  ages  were 
stripped  of  all  their  property,  driven  from  place  to  place 
and  hunted  like  wild  beasts.  Females  were  carried  into 
the  nunneries  to  be  whipped,  starved  and  barbarously 
treated.  A  general  rage  for  persecution  seemed  to  seize 
upon  the  Roman  Catholics.  Persons,  who  had  been 
long  esteemed  for  their  mildness  and  moderation,  now 
grew  furious  persecutors.  Neighbors,  friends,  and  even 
relatives,  rivalled  the  barbarities  of  the  Inquisition. 
Many  of  the  Protestants  had  been  driven  to  renounce 
their  faith,  but  they  were  known  by  their  mournful 
looks  and  conscience-smitten  countenances ;  they  walked 
with  downcast  glance  and  hesitating  step.  They  were 
watched  by  the  persecutors  with  unceasing  vigilance. 
If  they  attempted  to  escape  they  were  stopped  by  the 
guards  that  lined  the  frontiers.  And  the  men  were  sent 
to  the  galleys,  the  women  to  the  nunneries.  If  the 


268  FATAL    TO    LOUIS    XIV. 

new  converts  did  not  receive  the  sacrament  at  death, 
they  were  refused  the  rite  of  burial.  Their  bodies  were 
flung  out  to  be  devoured  by  the  dogs. 

The  persecution  of  Protestantism  in  France  was  the 
source  of  the  downfall  of  Louis  XIY.  It  showed  Pro- 
testants of  every  land  what  they  might  expect  from  the 
mildest  Catholic  rule.  It  warned  them  of  the  bitter 
hatred  which  lurked  beneath  the  fairest  professions  of 
their  opponents.  If  the  enlightened,  generous  and 
polished  Louis  was  forced  by  his  religious  principles  to 
become  a  persecutor  worse  than  Diocletian,  the  papist 
kings  of  other  countries  were  still  more  to  be  distrusted. 
The  news  of  the  dreadful  events  in  France  passed  over 
into  England.  Burnet  published  an  account  of  his  tour 
and  pictured  to  his  countrymen  the  effects  of  that  vast 
Inquisition  which  had  been  employed  to  extirpate  the 
Huguenots.  He  wrote  only  what  he  had  beheld.  But 
the  simple  narrative  was  sufficient.  It  was  what  the 
Englishmen  wanted  to  steel  their  hearts  against  the 
liberal  professions  of  James.  "When  James  demanded 
toleration  as  the  only  mode  of  opening  the  way  for 
Popery,  his  people  smiled  at  his  insincerity.  When  he 
courted  the  favor  of  the  dissenters  in  his  designs  against 
the  church,  they  could  point  to  the  doom  of  their  Cal- 
vinistic  brethren  in  France  as  the  test  of  true  papal 
toleration.  The  barbarities  of  Louis  roused  that  feeling 
of  hatred  against  Romanism  in  England  which  opened 
the  way  for  the  success  of  William. 

Protestants  had  never  been  persecutors.     No  rude 


PROTESTANTS  NEVER  PERSECUTORS.         269 

scene  of  oppression  had  ever  followed  the  establish- 
ment of  the  liberal  faith.  "Wherever  they  ruled  over 
Roman  Catholics  they,  at  least,  allowed  them  their 
liberty  and  their  lives.  They  treated  them,  it  is 
true,  in  that  age  as  a  dangerous  class,  but  they  did 
not  drive  them  from  their  homes,  send  them  to  the 
galleys,  or  force  them  by  severe  penalties  to  deny 
their  cherished  religion.  The  papist  in  all  Protes- 
tant countries  found  a  home  and  a  shelter.  English- 
men, therefore,  looked  upon  the  conduct  of  Louis  as 
the  more  inexcusable.  Had  he  been  provoked  by  the 
oppressive  policy  of  Protestant  kings  to  retaliate  upon 
his  own  subjects,  they  might  have  seen  some  excuse  for 
his  violence.  Or  had  the  French  Calvinists  plotted 
against  his  authority,  he  would  have  been  yet  more 
pardonable.  But  there  was  no  excuse.  His  act  was  the 
mere  whim  of  an  absolute  king,  governed  by  a  blind 
and  cruel  superstition.  It  was  disapproved  of  by  many 
liberal  Roman  Catholics. 

"When  Monmouth.  was  preparing  his  unfortunate 
expedition  against  James,  Burnet  was  in  Paris.  His 
friends  warned  him  that  he  was  watched  by  the  court. 
He  carefully  avoided  all  connection  with  the  invaders. 
In  company  with  Brigadier  Stoupe,  a  Protestant  officer 
in  the  French  service,  he  made  a  tour  through  Italy. 

In  those  days  of  intolerance  it  was  a  bold  thing  for  the 
most  conspicuous  Protestant  writer  to  venture  into  the 
heart  of  the  Romish  power.  Some  of  his  acquaintances 
cautioned  him  against  the  danger  of  the  attempt. 


270  BUENET   AT   ROME. 

Burnetj  however,  was  never  timid.  His  bold  and  san- 
guine temperament  made  him  overlook  danger,  and  he 
entered  Italy,  where  a  Protestant  was  usually  sent  to 
the  Inquisition,  as  calmly  as  he  would  have  walked  the 
streets  of  Amsterdam. 

His  boldness  was  admired.  The  famous  Protestant 
writer  was  received  with  unusual  distinction.  When 
he  visited  Rome,  the  pope,  Innocent  XL,  no  sooner 
heard  of  his  arrival  than  he  sent  the  captain  of  the  Swiss 
guards  to  acquaint  him  that  he  would  give  him  an  audi- 
ence in  bed  in  order  to  avoid  the  ceremony  of  kissing 
his  toe.  Burnet  excused  himself  from  an  interview. 
The  Cardinals  Howard  and  D'Estres  paid  him  many 
civilities.  Howard  showed  him  the  letters  which  he 
had  received  from  England,  announcing  the  approaching 
triumph  of  his  faith.  The  Catholics  were  convinced 
that  that  seat  of  their  foes  was  soon  about  to  fall  under 
the  power  of  the  church.  Yet  at  Rome  the  policy  of 
James  was  condemned.  The  pope  was  an  enemy  of 
the  ambitious  Louis,  and  regretted  to  see  England,  the 
only  power  that  could  check  his  progress,  fall  so  com- 
pletely into  his  designs. 

Burnet  soon  grew  intimate  with  the  cardinals.  One 
evening  he  was  present  when  Cardinal  Howard  was 
distributing  relics  to  two  French  gentlemen.  With  his 
customary  heedlessness  he  whispered  to  the  cardinal  in 
English,  "  that  it  was  surprising  that  a  Protestant  of  the 
church  of  England  should  be  at  Rome  helping  them  off 
with  the  wares  of  Babylon."  The  cardinal  smiled  and 


HE   VISITS    GENEVA.  271 

repeated  the  remark  in  French  to  the  two  gentlemen, 
adding  that  they  should  tell  their  countrymen  "how 
bold  were  Protestants  and  how  mild  Catholics  at  Rome." 
Burnet's  indiscretion  in  conversation  soon  made  him 
looked  upon  with  suspicion.  He  did  not,  indeed,  com- 
mence religious  discussions,  but  he  was  never  willing  to 
allow  his  own  side  to  go  undefended.  In  fact  he  was  a 
thorough  polemic.  He  loved  a  religious  dispute.  It 
was  his  favorite  mode  of  attempting  conversion.  He 
had  proposed  it  to  both  James  and  Charles.  He  had 
tried  it,  though  with  no  flattering  result,  upon  Lady 
Tyrwhit.  It  was  hardly  to  be  hoped  that  he  could  keep 
silent  even  at  Rome.  His  indiscreet  speeches  were 
reported  to  the  government.  And  Prince  Borghese  sent 
him  an  intimation  to  withdraw. 

During  this  tour  he  visited  the  Lutherans  at  Stras- 
burg,  the  Calvinists  at  Heidelberg,  and  staid  some  time 
at  Geneva.  Here  he  found  the  city  crowded  with 
French  Huguenots,  who  had  come  naked  and  penniless 
to  crave  the  aid  of  their  Protestant  brethren.  The  city 
was  alarmed  at  their  numbers  and  importunity.  It 
feared,  too,  lest  its  reception  of  these  unhappy  fugitives 
should  bring  danger  upon  itself,  and  it  doubted  the 
support  of  the  Catholic  cantons  should  any  difficulty 
arise.  The  power  of  Louis  overshadowed  the  little 
republic  and  threatened  it  with  destruction. 

The  conduct  of  the  afflicted  Protestants  was  not  such 
as  could  reassure  their  friends.  Their  sectarian  differ- 
ences raged  as  violently  as  ever.  They  were  exceed- 


272  WILLIAM    OF    ORANGE. 

ingly  strict  in  all  doctrinal  matters  and  loose  in  conduct. 
Even  the  refugees,  who  had  just  sacrificed  so  much  for 
religion,  to  Burnet  did  not  seem  more  charitable  or  more 
correct.  The  clergy  of  Geneva  repeated  their  prayers 
with  indifference,  and  delighted  in  long  dry  sermons 
that  wearied  out  their  hearers.  They  were  very  jealous 
of  the  smallest  difference  in  doctrine,  and  were  plunged 
in  endless  controversies.  Such  was  the  discouraging 
state  of  Protestantism  in  all  Europe. 

From  his  tour  through  Southern  Europe  Burnet  came 
"back,  intending  to  settle  in  some  part  of  the  Nether- 
lands. But  he  received  an  invitation  from  the  Prince 
of  Orange  to  come  to  the  Hague.  William  was  well  ac- 
quainted with  his  character  and  influence,  and  was  glad 
of  his  support. 

William's  was  a  strange  nature.  He  hated  society 
and  conversation:  he  disliked  all  kinds  of  amusement 
except  hunting:  he  seemed  altogether  cold  and  pas- 
sionless. His  education  had  been  neglected :  he  never 
could  submit  to  restraint.  From  his  instructors  he 
seemed  to  have  learned  only  the  extreme  fatalism  of 
Calvin.  He  fled  from  business,  and  was  no  student. 
One  great  passion  alone  animated  his  dull  existence, — 
the  desire  to  humble  Louis  XIY. 

"With  the  cold  and  reserved  prince,  Burnet  seems  to 
have  grown  into  habits  of  intimacy.  To  judge  from  his 
own  history,  he  must  have  succeeded  in  making  "William 
talk.  His  first  act  was  to  inform  him  of  a  plot  which 
had  been  laid  for  seizing  him,  and  carrying  him  into 


HIS   QUEEN".  273 

France.  A  Savoyard  had  noticed  that  "William  was  in 
the  habit  of  riding  on  the  sands  of  Seheveling,  near  the 
sea,  with  but  few  attendants.  He  proposed  to  land 
from  a  small  vessel  that  could  lie  near  the  shore ;  seize 
the  prince,  and  carry  him  on  board  of  the  vessel.  Wil- 
liam heard  the  story  with  his  usual  coldness  and  uncon- 
cern. But  when  it  was  mentioned  to  his  princess,  she 
became  alarmed.  She  directed  Fagel  and  other  lead- 
ing men  to  be  informed  of  it.  The  states  desired  that 
William  in  future  would  use  a  guard. 

William  opened  to  Burnet  his  political  principles. 
He  said  that  he  disapproved  of  James's  conduct  in 
England.  He  spoke  favorably  of  the  Church  of  Eng- 
land, but  condemned  its  severity  towards  other  sects. 
According  to  Burnet  the  silent  William  held  a  long 
conversation  with  him  in  the  presence  of  Mary  upon 
the  subject  of  the  Church,  its  ceremonies,  history  and 
doctrines.  No  doubt  the  burden  of  the  conversation 
fell  to  the  loquacious  Scotchman. 

The  queen  was  more  likely  to  be  influenced  by 
Burnet  than  her  husband.  Lady  Russell  had  already 
recommended  him  to  her  favor.  Mary  was  religious, 
charitable  and  sensible.  Her  father  gave  her  no  allow- 
ance for  the  support  of  her  dignity ;  nor  ever  sent  her 
presents  and  jewels.  Yet,  she  was  always  liberal  to 
the  poor,  and  maintained  her  own  dignity.  She  had 
read  much  in  history  and  divinity.  But  with  English 
affairs  she  was  little  acquainted.  She  employed  Burnet 

12* 


JAMES    II.    ENRAGED. 

to  give  lier  a  full  account  of  the  politics  of  her  native 
island. 

With  his  old  thoughtless  ardor,  Burnet  was  no  sooner 
established  at  the  Hague,  that  he  commenced  giving 
advice.  He  pressed  William  to  increase  the  fleet  of 
Holland,  so  as  to  be  ready  for  any  emergency.  He 
prevailed  upon  him  to  write  a  letter  to  James  in  favor 
of  the  Bishop  of  London  ;  and  he  even  ventured  to  ask 
the  queen  what  share  in  the  government  she  wished  to 
assign  to  William,  in  case  they  should  obtain  the  crown 
of  England. 

The  favorable  reception  of  Burnet  at  the  Hague 
aroused  against  him  the  hostility  of  James,  while  the 
effect  of  his  later  writings  increased  the  anger  of  the  king. 
Burnet  had  translated  "  Lactantius  on  the  death  of  Per- 
secutors," a  theme  which  could  not  be  very  pleasing  to 
the  Catholic  powers.  And  he  had,  besides,  given  in  his 
"  Tour"  a  striking  evidence  of  the  persecuting  spirit  of 
the  Roman  Catholics.  The  force  of  his  indignant  pic- 
tures had  been  felt  by  every  Protestant  in  England. 
He  had  aroused  a  feeling  there  such  as  James  could 
never  allay.  A  new  circumstance  increased  the  king's 
displeasure — Burnet  was  about  to  marry  a  lady  of  large 
fortune  and  great  influence  in  Holland. 

The  Lady  Margaret  had  died ;  and  Burnet  was  now 
engaged  to  Mrs.  Mary  Scott,  a  descendant,  on  her 
father's  side,  of  the  Scotts  of  Buccleugh,  and  on  her 
mother's,  a  De  Ruyter,  connected  with  many  of  the 


SUBNET'S  SECOND  WIFE.  275 

noblest  families  of  Gueldres.  He  seems  to  have  been 
unusually  happy  in  the  choice  of  his  wives ;  for  the  lady 
was  of  a  pleasing  appearance ;  painted,  drew,  and  was 
a  perfect  musician.  She  spoke  English,  French  and 
Dutch.  Her  understanding  was  fine,  and  her  temper 
sweet :  her  knowledge  in  religious  matters  would  have 
become  a  student  of  divinity ;  and  her  fortune  was  un- 
usually large.  In  order  to  marry,  Burnet  must  be 
naturalized  :  he  made  application  therefore  to  the  states 
to  become  a  naturalized  citizen  of  Holland. 

But  James  resolved  to  destroy  the  fair  prospects  of 
his  adversary:  he  ordered  him  to  prosecuted  for  treason. 
There  was  no  ground  for  this  violent  proceeding,  except 
a  passage  in  a  letter  to  the  Earl  of  Middleton,  in  which  he 
had  threatened  James  with  the  disclosure  of  certain  pas- 
sages in  his  past  conduct,  and  the  application  which  he 
had  made  to  become  a  citizen  of  Holland.  Yet,  on 
these  grounds  a  sentence  of  outlawry  was  passed  against 
him.  A  demand  was  then  made  to  the  states  that  he 
should  be  given  up  to  the  English  government.  But 
the  states  refused,  urging  that,  according  to  the  law  of 
nations,  he  was  now  one  of  their  own  citizens,  and  that 
they  were  bound  to  protect  him.  Burnet  triumphed 
in  the  defeat  of  the  king.  But  Abbeville,  the  English 
envoy,  boasted  that  he  would  carry  him  away  by  force  ; 
and  James  promised  a  large  reward  for  his  apprehen- 
sion. Burnet  received  information  that  £5,000  had 
been  offered  to  any  person  that  would  murder  him ; 
and  that  a  warrant  lay  ready  drawn,  but  not  yet  signed, 


276 


WILLIAM    PKXX. 


in  tlie  secretary's  office  in  London,  for  the  payment  of 
£3,000  to  a  person  not  mentioned,  who  had  agreed  to 
seize  and  destroy  him.  Yet,  the  undaunted  priest 
showed  no  signs  of  fear :  he  was  as  careless  among 
the  plots  of  his  enemies  as  he  had  been  among  his 
congregation  at  St.  Clement's.  It  was  one  source  of 
Burnet's  safety  in  those  dangerous  times,  that  all  men 
allowed  him  to  be  fearless.  His  audacity  startled  even 
his  enemies. 

About  this  time  Penn,  the  famous  Quaker,  came  over 
to  Holland.  "  He  was,"  says  Burnet,  "  a  vain  talking 
man  :  he  had  such  an  opinion  of  his  own  power  of  per- 
suasion, that  he  thought  no  one  could  resist  it."  His 
discourse  was  tiresome,  Burnet  thought,  rather  than  per- 
suasive ; — one  great  talker  seldom  admires  the  con- 
versation of  another.  He  came  over  with  the  hope  of 
persuading  "William  and  Mary  to  approve  of  the  king's 
measures,  and  had  several  long  audiences.  Burnet  was 
sometimes  present.  "William  was  favorable  to  tolera- 
tion; but  did  not  think  the  test  could  be  given  up 
without  injury  to  the  Church  of  England. 

"  Many,"  said  Bumet,  "  thought  that  Penn  was  a 
concealed  papist."  His  intimacy  with  Petre  and  Sun- 
derland  gave  rise  to  this  report.  Burnet  and  Penn 
were  often  together.  They  both  agreed  upon  the  prin- 
ciple of  toleration,  and  Penn  pressed  Burnet  to  come 
over  to  England, — accept  a  pardon  from  James,  and 
assured  him  of  high  preferment  in  the  Church.  He 
told  Burnet  a  remarkable  prophecy  which  had  been 


WILLIAM    PREPARES    TO    INVADE    ENGLAND.  277 

made  by  a  man  who  professed  to  hold  converse  with  an 
angel,  that  in  1688  a  change  should  take  place  that 
would  astonish  the  world.  The  prophecy  was  fulfilled, 
but  in  a  manner  that  Penn  little  anticipated.  And 
when  IB u met,  after  the  revolution,  met  the  Quaker 
courtier  in  London,  he  asked  him  if  that  was  the  event 
predicted.  Penn  remembered  the  prophecy  ;  was  con- 
fused, and  made  no  reply. 

In  1688  the  reign  of  the  direct  line  of  descendants 
from  the  unhappy  Mary,  Queen  of  Scots,  was  to  end  in 
England.  Their  careers  had  been  marked  only  by  their 
faults  and  their  misfortunes.  James  I.  had  been 
despised,  and  Charles  I.  beheaded  by  his  subjects. 
The  restored  Charles  had  deluged  the  nation  with 
immorality,  and  sought  to  betray  the  religion  of  his 
people.  James  IT.  had  carried  the  family  vices  to  their 
highest  pitch,  and  by  tyranny  at  home,  and  misconduct 
abroad  had  destroyed  the  glory  and  happiness  of  his 
kingdom.  It  seemed  as  if  a  curse  rested  upon  the 
descendants  of  Mary,  and  made  them  a  blight  and  a 
disgrace  to  the  land  which  was  stained  with  her  blood. 

A  great  expedition  was  prepared  in  Holland,  for 
the  invasion  of  England,  and  Bui-net  has  the  credit  of 
being  one  of  its  earliest  instigators.  One  of  his  first 
counsels  to  William  had  been  to  prepare  for  a  sudden 
emergency.  His  busy,  active,  intriguing  temper  made 
him  of  great  use  to  the  prince.  His  thorough  know- 
ledge of  English  affairs  ;  his  popularity  as  a  Protestant 
controversialist ;  his  wide  acquaintance  among  eminent 
churchmen  and  noblemen,  made  him  early  one  of 


278  JAMES    UNSUSPICIOUS. 

William's  chosen  advisers.  He  was  employed  to  draw 
Dykvelt's  instructions  when  that  minister  was  sent  over 
to  test  the  temper  of  Englishmen,  and  from  the  success 
of  Dykvelt  they  were  probably  drawn  well. 

In  England,  James  entertained  a  strange  delusion. 
He  believed  himself  despotic,  when  all  his  authority 
was  gone.  He  continued  to  violate  the  laws  of  Eng- 
land, when  its  army,  its  people,  and  its  nobility  were 
united  in  a  conspiracy  against  their  popish  king.  The 
birth  of  a  son  to  James,  an  event  which  was  wont  to 
fill  all  the  realm  with  joy,  hastened  the  movements  of 
the  discontented.  So  long  as  Mary  had  been  sole  heir 
apparent  to  the  crown,  the  Protestants  felt  that  some 
distant  hope  of  relief  from  their  present  dangerous  cir- 
cumstances remained,  but  when  it  was  announced  that  a 
male  heir  was  born,  who  would  doubtless  be  educated  in 
the  principles  of  his  father,  there  seemed  no  refuge  but 
in  revolution.  In  their  disappointment  and  despair, 
Protestants  attempted  to  throw  discredit  upon  the  birth. 
They  asserted  that  James  was  endeavoring,  for  the  sake 
of  his  religion,  to  palm  off  upon  the  nation  a  supposi- 
titious child  as  his  own.  This  scandal  was  generally 
believed.  Burnet  has  devoted  some  pages  to  its  proof 
and  considered  the  fact  of  the  imposture  indisputable. 
William  even  laid  considerable  stress  upon  it  in  his 
address  to  the  people  of  England.  At  all  events  it 
proves  how  low  had  sunk  the  reputation  of  the  unfor- 
tunate Stuart,  when  so  many  eminent  men  believed  him 
capable  of  a  gross  and  intentional  imposture. 

England  looked  to  William  for  relief.     Affairs  at  the 


THE   EXPEDITION    SAILS.  279 

Hague  had  been  managed  with  unusual  prudence.  A 
large  fleet  and  army  lay  awaiting  the  summons  of  the 
prince.  In  October  the  troops  went  aboard  in  the 
Zuyder-Zee.  The  prince  and  his  court  prepared  to 
embark.  Burnet  saw  the  princess  just  before  their 
departure:  she  seemed  depressed.  The  expedition 
sailed  on  the  19th  October,  and  was  driven  back  by  a 
storm.  But  one  ship,  however,  was  lost.  Mary  ordered 
prayers  to  be  said  four  times  a  day  for  its  success. 

On  November  1st  it  sailed  again.  A  fair  wind  bore 
the  vast  fleet  down  the  British  Channel,  while  the 
shores  on  either  side  were  lined  with  crowds  of  specta- 
tors. Just  an  hundred  years  had  passed  since  the 
Armada' had  sailed  over  those  waters  to  carry  Popery 
and  the  Inquisition  into  England.  And  now  a  second 
armament  approached  its  shores,  under  more  fortunate 
auspices,  to  drive  out  the  last  Catholic  king.  Burnet, 
one  of  the  chief  promoters  of  the  expedition,  has 
described  its  majestic  progress,  bearing  new  principles 
of  government,  a  liberal  monarch,  and  an  assurance  of 
religious  freedom,  to  the  British  isles.  On  the  5th  the 
fleet  was  sheltered  in  Torbay.  Burnet  was  in  the  van. 
On  landing  he  hastened  to  the  prince,  who  took  him 
heartily  by  the  hand.  "  Doctor,"  said  he,  "  what  do 
you  now  think  of  predestination?"  Burnet  replied 
that  "he  could  never  forget  the  providence  of  God, 
which  had  appeared  so  signally  on  this  occasion." 
The  prince,  usually  so  cold  and  reserved,  seemed  at  this 
moment  even  cheerful.  But  he  soon  relapsed  into  his 
usual  gravity. 


280  FLIGHT    OF   JAMES    II. 

William  might  well  show  a  momentary  excitement. 
The  great  object  of  his  life  was  accomplished.  He 
stood  on  British  ground,  invited  by  the  wisest  and  great- 
est Englishmen  to  become  the  defender  of  their  liberties 
and  their  faith.  He  stood  there  the  champion  of  Pro- 
testantism and  of  liberal  government,  as  Louis  XIY. 
was  of  despotism  and  superstition.  He  felt  that  he 
now  drew  near  to  the  hour  wiien  Louis  should  be  hum- 
bled. He  saw  himself  already  master  of  England,  and 
about  to  form  that  great  European  league  which  should 
reduce  the  power  of  France.  This  had  ever  been 
Willam's  ambition.  To  fight  at  the  head  of  the  allied 
powers  against  that  monarch  who  had  ravaged  his 
favorite  Orange,  and  pillaged  and  desolated  the  fertile 
fields  of  Holland,  was  what  William  believed  to  be 
his  destiny,  and  this  destiny  was  now  nearly  accom- 
plished. 

James  fled.  England  was  without  a  king.  The 
great  question  was  everywhere  agitated  how  should  the 
succession  be  arranged.  Halifax  proposed  that  the 
crown  should  be  given  to  William,  and  that  after  his 
death  it  should  pass  to  Mary  and  Anne.  At  this  pro- 
position Burnet  was  indignant.  His  warm  zeal  for  the 
absent  princess,  who  was  detained  in  Holland  by  the 
severity  of  the  season,  would  not  permit  him  to  keep 
silent.  He  said  the  proposition  was  an  ill  return  for 
the  patriotic  conduct  of  Mary,  that  it  was  unjust  and 
ungrateful,  and  would  meet  with  wide  opposition.  He 
avowed  his  own  resolution  to  oppose  it.  And  when  he 
believed  that  it  was  the  secret  design  of  William  lie 


THE   SUCCESSION.  281 

hastened  to  him  and  offered  to  retire  from  his  court 
rather  than  be  obliged  to  oppose  his  wishes. 

But  the  succession  was  arranged  in  a  manner  that 
ensured  to  England  liberty  and  good  government.  The 
Revolution  of  1688  was  accomplished  almost  without 
bloodshed  and  with  little  popular  commotion,  yet  its 
influence  for  the  benefit  of  man  has  been  unbounded. 
It  checked  the  onward  march  of  Popery,  and  ensured 
to  the  feeble  Protestant  states  of  Europe  a  protector  in 
William.  It  formed  a  barrier  against  the  ambitious 
designs  of  Louis,  and  led  to  those  signal  triumphs  of 
British  arms  in  the  reign  of  Anne,  which  prostrated  the 
overgrown  power  of  France.  It  established  in  England 
a  political  and  religious  liberty  under  which  the  strong 
intellect  of  its  people  has  grown  up  and  become  fully 
developed*  It  reached  even  America.  The  tyranny 
of  James  had  been  felt  and  hated  in  Massachusetts  Bay 
almost  as  much  as  in  London.  When  William  brought 
back  liberty  to  England  the  principles  of  freedom  flou- 
rished anew  in  America. 

In  this  great  revolution  Burnet  had  a  leading  part. 
It  is  impossible  to  estimate  how  much  influence  his 
earnest  advocacy  of  moderation  and  liberality  had  upon 
the  conduct  of  William,  but  it  must  have  been  great. 
His  impulsive,  generous,  and  heedless  nature  seems  to 
have  won  the  confidence  of  the  prince.  With  Mary  he 
was  even  more  a  favorite  than  with  her  husband.  He 
instructed  her  in  the  politics  of  England,  and  often 
guided  her  in  her  religious  difficulties.  Evidently  he 


282  BURNET   MADE   BISHOP. 

gained  a  large  influence  over  the  rtfmds  of  both  William 
and  Mary,  and  imbued  them  with  many  of  his  own 
opinions  in  religious  and  civil  affairs. 

In  March,  1689,  Burnet  was  made  Bishop  of  Salis- 
bury. He  had  so  little  expectation  of  this  preferment 
that  he  had  asked  the  king  to  give  it  to  his  old  friend, 
Dr.  Lloyd.  The  king  said  it  was  intended  for  another 
person,  and  soon  after  nominated  Burnet  to  the  see 
with  many  obliging  expressions.  The  queen  added  that 
she  hoped  he  would  now  put  in  practice  those  notions 
with  which  he  had 'taken  the  liberty  to  entertain  her. 
Archbishop  Bancroft  refused  for  some  time  to  consecrate 
him,  but  was  at  last  forced  by  a  threat  of  prsemunire 
to  issue  a  commission  for  that  purpose.  No  sooner  had 
Burnet  entered  the  House  of  Lords  than  he  declared 
his  resolution  to  support  only  moderate  measures. 
Burnet  had  now  an  opportunity  of  recommending  him- 
self to  the  favor  of  the  house  of  Hannover.  When  the 
succession  was  under  discussion  William  desired  him  to 
propose  the  limitation  of  the  crown  to  that  family. 
This  was  not  done  until  some  time  afterwards,  but 
Burnet's  exertions  in  favor  of  her  cause  were  acknow- 
ledged with  gratitude  by  the  electress  Sophia.  She 
wrote  to  him  several  letters  expressing  her  esteem  and 
her  hope  of  one  day  being  able  to  prove  her  regard 
for  him. 

Through  the  reign  of  William  and  Mary  he  conti- 
nued a  favorite.  One  strange  idea,  however,  possessed 
his  mind,  that  William  reigned  by  right  of  conquest. 


HIS    CONDUCT.  283 

This  idea  he  enforced  upon  his  diocese  in  a  pastoral 
letter.  The  letter  was  burned  two  years  afterwards  by 
order  of  Parliament,  by  the  common  hangman.  A 
doctrine  so  offensive  to  the  pride  of  Englishmen  was 
confined,  with  the  single  exception  of  Charles  Blount,  a 
free-thinker,  to  Burnet.  Yet  it  was  a  strange  reverse 
that  one  of  the  last  publications  of  that  author,  whose 
history  had  been  honored  with  the  expressed  approbation 
of  the  Parliament  under  Charles,  should  be  burnt  igno- 
miniously  by  the  Parliament  of  William. 

Burnet  entered  upon  the  duties  of  the  diocese  of 
Salisbury  with  the  same  zeal  that  had  characterized  him 
in  his  little  parish  at  Saltoun.  The  bishop  was  no  less 
devoted  than  the  country  clergymen.  Since  he  had 
fled  from  Scotland  he  had  mingled  in  the  highest  of 
earthly  scenes.  He  had  lived  in  luxurious  courts,  sur- 
rounded by  tempters  who  would  gladly  have  led  him  to 
sacrifice  his  principles  at  the  price  of  worldly  advance- 
ment. He  had  resisted  the  temptation  and  the  flat- 
tery of  kings.  He  had  passed  through  the  scenes 
of  worldly  grandeur  without  a  stain  upon  his  piety. 
He  had  mingled  in  fierce  political  strife,  and  had 
joined  in  planning  and  carrying  out  a  revolution  without 
ever  losing  the  purity  of  a  priest  in  the  ardor  of  a  poli- 
tical exile.  And  now  that  he  came  back  to  resume  his 
professional  duties  his  conduct  was  marked  by  the  same 
earnestness  and  ardor  as  ever.  He  had  not,  like  many 
of  his  contemporaries,  assumed  the  Episcopal  robes  only 
to  gratify  his  idle  vanity,  and  to  pass  the  close  of  his 


284  HIS    CONSISTENCY. 

life  in  indolent  dignity  ;  to  appropriate  the  revenues  of 
his  diocese  in  amassing  a  great  fortune  for  his  children ; 
or  to  gain  power  and  influence  by  exalting  the  church. 
But  he  entered  upon  a  high  charge  with  the  simple 
desire  to  do  good. 

In  his  diocese  he  was  humane,  charitable,  moderate 
and  laborious.  One  of  his  first  acts  was  to  write  a  work 
upon  Confirmation,  a  copy  of  which  he  sent  to  every  per- 
son who  desired  to  receive  that  rite.  He  preached  con- 
stantly, lie  obliged  his  clergy  to  reside  in  their  parishes 
and  discountenanced  pluralities.  Every  summer  he  made 
a  tour  through  his  diocese  confirming  and  preaching. 
His  conduct  towards  dissenters  was  so  moderate  that  it 
gained  him  many  enemies.  He  permitted  a  meeting- 
house to  be  retained  at  Salisbury  at  a  time  when  dis- 
senters were  not  allowed  to  worship  openly.  His  mode- 
ration is  said  to  have  won  over  many  to  the  church. 
"When  Dr.  Reach,  a  dissenting  minister,  had  incurred 
prosecution  by  a  sermon  which  contained  treasonable 
matter,  Burnet  interceded  for  him,  and  obtained  his 
pardon. 

Such  was  Burnet's  consistency.  The  humane  and 
philosophical  principles  which  he  advocated  in  early 
life,  he  continued  always  to  profess  in  the  face  of  every 
danger  to  himself  and  of  the  opposition  of  bitter  enemies. 
So  high  was  the  opinion  of  his  generosity  and  mildness^ 
that  even  those  who  had  been  most  hostile  to  him,  often 
came  to  seek  his  assistance. 

The  Earl  of  Rochester,  in  the  reign  of  James,  had 


HE  RETURNS   TO   LITERATURE.  285 

been  one  of  those  who  had  driven  Burnet  from  Eng- 
land. In  the  reign  of  "William  he  made  use  of  the 
bishop's  influence  to  save  his  family  estate.  "  My  Lord," 
wrote  the  earl  to  the  man  he  had  persecuted,  "  the  good 
offices  your  Lordship  told  me  you  had  endeavoured  to  do 
me  with  the  Queen,  of  your  own  accord  and  generosity, 
incline  me  to  desire  to  be  obliged  to  your  Lordship  for 
presenting  the  following  petition  to  her  Majesty.  I 
should  say  a  great  deal  to  your  Lordship  for  my  own 
confidence  in  addressing  all  this  to  your  Lordship,  some 
passages  of  my  life  having  been  such  as  may  very  pro- 
perly give  it  this  name."  Again  Rochester  writes, 
"Among  all  her  favors  (Lady  Ranelagh),  one  that  I  shall 
never  forget,  was  her  desire  and  endeavour  not  only  to 
renew  for  me  the  acquaintance  I  formerly  had  with  your 
Lordship,  but  to  knit  it  closer  into  a  friend."  This  was 
humble  language  for  the  proud  earl  to  use,  who  not 
many  years  before  had  ruled  in  the  councils  of  James 
and  Charles.  But  it  is  a  happy  proof  of  the  generosity 
and  good  nature  of  Burnet.  He  was  also  of  assistance 
t«  the  Earl  of  Clarendon  and  several  others  of  the  fallen 
party. 

Burnet  now  returned  to  literature.  He  wrote  with 
all  the  ardor  of  youth.  In  1694  died  his  old  friend 
Archbishop  Tillotson,  whose  funeral  sermon  he  preached. 
The  next  year  Queen  Mary  died,  and  Burnet  wrote  her 
"  character."  In  1698  he  lost  his  second  wife  by  small 
pox.  Finding  himself  engaged  with  a  family  of  children, 
he  soon  after  married  again  on  their  account.  His  third 


286  HIS   THIRD   WIFE. 

wife  was  Mrs.  Berkley,  a  daughter  of  Sir  Richard  Blake. 
At  seventeen  she  had  married  Robert  Berkley,  of  "Wor- 
cester. In  James'  reign  they  fled  from  England,  to 
travel  through  the  United  Provinces.  The  husband 

O 

died  in  1693.  During  her  widowhood,  Mrs.  Berkley 
commenced  writing  a  "  Method  of  Devotion,"  which 
was  afterwards  published  and  passed  through  three  edi- 
tions. And  she  also  employed  herself  in  watching  the 
completion  of  Worcester  Hospital,  for  which  her  husband 
had  left  a  sufficient  bequest.  She  died  in  1T07,  before 
Burnet  Her  life  was  afterwards  written  in  an  account 
of  "  British  ladies  celebrated  for  their  attainments  in 
literature,  the  arts  and  sciences."  In  her  will  she 
directed  her  body  to  be  laid  by  the  side  of  her  first  hus- 
band, the  beloved  of  seventeen.  "  Not,  she  adds,"  out 
of  any  want  of  respect  or  kindness  to  my  present  hus- 
band, who  has  by  his  great  kindness  deserved  from  me 
all  the  gratitude  and  acknowledgments  of  love  and 
respect  I  can  testify."  But  her  heart  evidently  in  the 
close  of  life  went  back  and  rested  with  him  whom  she 
had  loved  as  a  girl.  By  this  lady  Burnet  had  two  chil- 
dren, who  died  in  their  infancy. 

His  appointment  as  tutor  to  the  Duke  of  Gloucester 
marked  the  year  1698.  The  young  duke  was  the  heir 
apparent  to  the  throne.  He  was  the  last  of  seventeen 
children  whom  the  Princess  Anne  had  lost  in  their  in- 
fancy. Gloucester  alone  remained,  and  his  education 
was  a  matter  of  deep  interest  to  the  nation.  Should  he  be 
imbued  with  those  principles  which  had  so  fatally  marked 


HIS   TUTOESHIP.  287 

his  Stuart  ancestors,  England  would  have  cause  to  mourn. 
Should  he  inherit  the  moderation  of  William,  his  country 
would  rejoice.  Among  all  the  eminent  prelates  of  that 
time,  the  king  selected  Burnet  as  the  person  best  fitted 
to  form  the  mind  and  character  of  his  successor.  He 
knew  his  sincerity,  learning  and  liberality  of  opinion, 
and  he  felt  that  should  he  undertake  the  office  he  would 
perform  it  with  his  usual  zeal. 

But  Burnet,  at  first,  was  unwilling  to  accept  it.  The 
duties  of  the  new  appointment  would  interfere  with 
those  of  his  diocese.  He  declined  to  take  new  labors 
upon  himself.  He  wrote  to  the  Earl  of  Sunderland  to 
use  his  influence  with  William  that  he  might  be  excused, 
and  to  Archbishop  Tenison  to  aid  the  request.  His 
friends,  however,  told  him  that  he  owed  it  to  the  nation, 
not  to  decline  an  office  that  might  hereafter  ensure  the 
permanence  of  his  own  principles  in  the  state.  Burnet 
at  length  consented.  But  he  desired  leave  from  "William 
to  resign  his  bishopric,  which  he  thought  must  be  neg- 
lected should  he  continue  to  hold  it.  William  was 
surprised.  He  was  not  accustomed  to  such  disinterest- 
edness. He  refused  to  accept  Burnet's  resignation,  and 
agreed  that  the  duke  should  reside  all  summer  at  Windsor, 
in  the  diocese  of  Salisbury,  and  that  the  bishop  should 
be  allowed  ten  weeks  every  year  to  visit  among  his 
churches. 

The  young  duke  was  a  diligent  scholar.  The  excel- 
lence of  his  disposition  was  known,  and  had  endeared 
him  to  the  nation.  Burnet's  appointment  was  popular. 


288  HIS    DEVOTION    TO    HIS    PUPIL. 

An  attempt  to  remove  him  indeed  was  made  in  the 
House  by  his  ancient  enemies  the  tories,  on  the  pretence 
that  he  was  a  Scotchman,  and  the  author  of  the  unfor- 
tunate pastoral  letter  that  had  been  burned  by  act  of 
Parliament.  But  the  motion  was  rejected  by  a  great 
majority.  The  country  rejoiced  to  see  their  young  prince 
under  the  care  of  that  prelate  who  had  hastened  the 
downfall  of  Popery  in  England,  and  had  sailed  in  the  van 
of  that  expedition  which  had  driven  out  its  popish  king. 

Burnet  was  a  good  instructor.  He  taught  the  duke 
history,  geography,  politics  and  religion.  Three  hours 
every  day  he  spent  on  these  subjects,  besides  overlook- 
ing his  other  instructors.  He  explained  to  his  pupil  the 
forms  of  government  of  different  countries,  the  occupa- 
tions of  the  people,  their  trade  and  manufactures,  their 
advantages  and  disadvantages.  He  recounted  the  his- 
tories of  Greece  and  Rome  and  related  to  him  Plutarch's 
Lives.  He  conversed  with  him  upon  the  feudal  laws 
and  the  Gothic  constitutions.  These  studies  seem  exten- 
sive for  a  boy  of  nine  or  ten.  Gloucester  died  in  1700, 
amid  the  general  regret  of  the  nation. 

Queen  Mary,  pleased  with  Burnet's  "  Pastoral  Care," 
had  urged  him  to  write  an  "  exposition  of  the  thirty-nine 
articles."  This  work,  which  was  now  published,  was 
denounced  by  the  lower  house  of  the  convocation  of 
clergy  but  was  defended  by  the  upper.  Tenison,  Sharp, 
Stillingneet  and  Lloyd  united  in  applauding  it.  In  1704 
Burnet  proposed  a  plan  for  the  augmentation  of  small 
livings,  which  was  afterwards  passed  by  Parliament. 


HIS   RETIREMENT.  289 

The  year  1706  was  marked  by  the  rapid  publication  of 
sermons,  pamphlets,  an  exposition  of  the  church  cate- 
chism and  other  writings.  His  mind  still  retained  its 
amazing  fertility. 

About  five  or  six  years  before  his  death  he  grew 
weary  of  the  busy  world  and  withdrew  to  a  residence 
in  St.  John's  Court,  Clerkenwell.  Here  he  would  see 
only  his  particular  friends;  but  these  were  the  most 
eminent  men  of  the  time.  Here  came  the  dukes  of 
Marlborough  and  Newcastle,  the  earls  of  Godolphin  and 
Halifax,  and  many  others  of  rank  or  eminence,  to  con- 
verse with  the  great  revolution  bishop.  The  conversa- 
tion of  such  a  man  must  have  been  remarkable.  He 
had  seen  and  been  familiar  with  more  men  of  real  great- 
ness than  almost  any  other  man  of  his  time.  He  had 
shared  in  all  those  scenes  of  danger  and  of  triumph 
which  now  formed  the  boast  of  Englishmen.  His 
memory  was  strong  and  ready.  He  talked  fluently, 
though  with  the  broad  Scotch  accent.  He  had  a  sharp 
eye  for  the  defects  of  others,  although  none  for  his  own. 
His  learning  was  of  a  wide  yet  popular  character  that 
could  never  seem  pedantic.  And  his  hasty  and  earnest 
speech  must  have  carried  along  his  listeners  as  his  bold 
extemporary  eloquence  had  charmed  the  crowded  con- 
gregations of  the  city. 

He  had  good  health  to  the  end  of  life.  "  His  large, 
bold-looking"  frame  endured  labors  and  studies  without 
failing.  His  habits  were  unusually  regular.  He  rose 
at  five  in  summer  and  six  in  winter.  The  first  two 

13 


290  HIS    CHARITIES. 

hours  of  each  day  and  the  last  half-hour  were  invariably 
spent  in  religious  meditation.  He  always  read  morning 
and  evening  prayers  to  his  family.  Six  or  eight  hours 
of  each  day  were  passed  in  his  study.  His  table  was 
plain,  plentiful  and  cheerful,  his  equipage  simple,  and 
all  his  expenses  moderate.  In  his  family  he  was  kind 
to  his  servants  and  perhaps  too  indulgent  to  his  children. 

His  charities  were  secret  and  extensive.  He  set  apart 
£500  yearly  for  this  purpose,  but  often  exceeded  that 
amount.  He  delighted  to  aid  distressed  clergymen, 
their  widows  and  children.  Besides  maintaining  a 
charity  school  for  fifty  children,  at  Salisbury,  he  aided 
many  others.  His  benevolence  extended  to  all  parties. 
When  Martin,  of  his  own  diocese,  resigned  his  prebend 
after  the  revolution,  because  he  could  not  conscientiously 
take  the  necessary  oaths,  the  bishop  allowed  him  half 
its  yearly  value  until  his  death. 

Burnet  remained  ever  an  unfailing  whig,  and  he  was 
one  of  the  most  active  of  his  party.  He  seemed  to  think 
that  religion  was  not  inconsistent  with  party  bitterness. 
His  political  writings  are  a  better  proof  of  his  sincerity 
than  of  his  impartiality.  However  generous  he  might 
be  in  act  towards  his  political  opponents  he  never  spares 
them  in  word.  He  can  see  the  slightest  defects  of  a 
tory.  He  paints  their  characters  not,  indeed,  with  the 
coarseness  or  bitterness  of  Swift,  but  with  a  general 
disapproval  in  which  his  strokes  of  praise  are  almost 
lost.  He  never  forgot  to  associate  them  with  the  days 
of  the  popish  plot  and  the  tyranny  of  James.  To  be  one 


THE   WHIGS.  291 

of  that  party  was  to  long  for  the  return  of  the  pretender 
and  arbitrary  rule.  They  were,  necessarily,  cruel, 
bigoted  and  tyrannical.  Nor  was  this  impression 
strange.  He  who  had  seen  the  persecution  of  the  Cove- 
nanters in  the  lowlands,  the  violent  policy  of  Charles 
and  James,  the  support  which  the  tories  had  given  to 
those  monarchs  in  their  harshest  measures,  could  not 
fail  to  dread  their  return  to  power. 

But  in  the  whig  party  Burnet  had  cause  for  sympathy 
and  triumph.  It  represented  his  own  moderate  princi- 
ples. It  spoke  of  toleration  to  the  dissenter  and  charity 
to  the  churchman,  of  liberty  to  the  king  and  self-respect 
to  the  people.  It  had  attained  wonderful  success,  and 
in  all  its  triumph  Burnet  had  shared.  It  had  brought 
over  liberal  sentiments  of  government  with  William  and 
had  ensured  their  continuance  by  a  proper  limitation 
of  the  crown.  It  had  decided  that  no  papist  should 
ever  after  sit  on  the  throne  of  England.  It  had  restored 
the  ancient  glory  of  the  nation.  Britain,  from  a  depen- 
dency of  Louis  XIV.,  had  risen  up  to  strike  down  that 
mighty  champion  of  despotism  in  humiliation  and  dis- 
may. The  whig  commander,  Marlborough,  had  inflicted 
such  fatal  blows  upon  France  as  she  had  not  felt  since 
the  days  of  Agincourt  and  Cressy.  France  lay  prostrate 
at  the  feet  of  the  whig  party  of  England,  suing  for  a 
disgraceful  peace.  But  this  was  not  the  highest  merit 
of  the  whigs  in  the  eyes  of  Burnet.  They  had  saved 
Protestantism.  Once  more,  as  in  the  reign  of  the  bold 
Elizabeth,  Protestants  everywhere  looked  for  support  to 


292  THEIR   FALL. 

England.  Once  more  his  native  country  formed  the 
centre  of  a  grand  league  for  freedom  of  thought.  So 
long  as  England  was  ruled  by  whigs,  the  sectaries  of 
Geneva  and  Amsterdam  might  pursue  their  endless 
quarrels  without  a  fear  of  being  abandoned  to  the  mercy 
of  their  Catholic  neighbors. 

But  in  1710  the  whig  party  was  about  to  fall.  Its 
leaders  had  been  so  long  used  to  power  that  they 
believed  themselves  its  necessary  possessors.  Marl- 
borough  and  Godolphin,  Sunderland  and  Somers  were 
names  almost  as  weighty  in  England  as  that  of  the 
queen.  Anne  grew  jealous  of  her  great  subjects.  She 
entertained  something  of  the  old  spirit  of  the  Stuarts, 
and  could  hardly  feel  herself  a  queen  while  she  was 
governed  by  a  faction.  She  resolved  to  dismiss  the 
haughty  whigs  and  bring  into  power  their  more  sub- 
servient opponents. 

Burnet  heard  of  her  intention  and  trembled  for  his 
country.  His  honest  zeal  against  toryism  blazed  forth 
again  with  his  ancient  ardor.  He  believed  the  nation 
was  about  once  more  to  be  delivered  into  the  hands  of 
Popery  and  the  Stuarts,  and  he  hastened  to  remonstrate 
against  the  purpose  of  the  queen. 

Anne  saw  him  and  heard  his  remonstrance.  He 
spoke  to  her  with  the  same  bold  plainness  with  which 
he  had  spoken  to  Charles  and  James  and  William.  He 
told  her  there  was  a  report  that  she  was  about  to  favor 
the  Jacobites ;  that  if  she  were  indeed  about  to  make 
such  a  bargain  for  delivering  up  her  people  she  would 


LITERATURE   REIGNS    WITH    ANNE.  293 

darken  the  close  of  a  glorious  reign;  that  she  would 
open  the  way  for  a  popish  successor.  He  urged  that 
the  present  ministry  had  served  her  with  fidelity  and 
with  such  success  that  their  removal  would  astonish  the 
world.  He  suggested  that  should  she  name  a  papist  as 
her  successor  the  Jacobites  would  take  means  to  destroy 
her  life  in  order  to  hasten  the  triumph  of  her  cause. 
Anne  heard  him  patiently.  She  said  little.  She  even 
seemed  to  assent.  But  her  measures  soon  after  proved 
how  little  effect  he  had  produced.  His  party  was  turned 
contemptuously  out  of  office,  as  if  Anne  delighted  to 
humble  those  proud  spirits  who  had  so  long  governed 
their  queen. 

Literature  reigned  with  Anne.  No  sooner  had  the 
party  of  Addison  and  Steele  gone  out  of  power  than  the 
scholar-like  Harley  and  the  gifted  Bolingbroke  united 
in  gathering  round  them  a  circle  equally  brilliant. 
Swift  and  Pope,  Prior,  Parnell  and  Gay,  were  the  ad- 
visers and  confidants  of  the  new  ministry.  Friendship 
grew  up  between  the  great  lords  and  the  greater  poets, 
which  lasted  with  their  lives.  Offices,  pensions  and 
gifts  of  considerable  sums  were  showered  upon  the 
literary  men  of  the  day.  "  Little  Harrison,"  an  inferior 
poet,  received  "  the  prettiest  place  in  Europe,"  and 
Swift  never  found  his  ministerial  friends  weary  of  listen- 
ing to  his  solicitations  for  the  rising  author,  or  in  giving 
aid  to  starving  poets.  Even  party  yielded  to  the  claims 
of  letters ;  and  Congreve  and  Steele,  both  whigs,  were 
kept  in  office  by  their  generous  opponents. 


294  SWIFT. 

Swift  was  the  chief  source  of  tins  literary  enthusiasm. 
He  became  the  untiring  friend  of  every  man  of  genius. 
He  made  the  fame  and  fortune  of  Pope,  Parnell,  and 
Gay,  and  aided  all  who  seemed  deserving.  He  im- 
pressed upon  the  ministry  the  dignity  of  literature,  and 
upon  the  author  eminence  of  those  intellectual  traits  by 
which  he  was  raised  above  mankind.  And  he  has  such 
claims  to  the  regard  of  men  of  letters  of  every  age,  that 
they  have  united  in  veiling  the  harsher  traits  of  his 
character  under  a  halo  of  generous  respect. 

Swift  revelled  in  sarcasm.  He  delighted  to  pierce  his 
foe  by  the  strokes  of  most  delicate  irony,  or  the  coarse 
blow  of  bitter  satire.  He  was  the  wittiest  writer  of  an 
age  of  wits.  In  the  reign  of  Anne  every  one  wrote 
satires.  They  were  the  favorite  weapons  of  the  time. 
Addison,  humorous  and  mild,  could  grow  sarcastic  in 
the  "  Freeholder."  The  melancholy  Parnell  could  assail 
a  whig  with  a  gay  bitterness  that  almost  shocks  the  ear 
in  wThich  yet  rings  the  pathetic  melody  of  the  "  Hermit." 
Pope  amused  his  leisure  with  contriving  tortures  for 
Curl  or  John  Dennis,  and  embodied  the  spirit  of  his 
age  in  his  memorable  "  Dunciad."  Montague  and  Prior 
had  grown  famous  by  a  satirical  song.  Bolingbroke  and 
Harley  amused  themselves  at  the  cost  of  the  Whigs. 
Pasquinades,  burlesques,  parodies,  and  every  species  of 
satire,  flew  from  hand  to  hand,  and  governed  popular 
opinion. 

It  was  unfortunate  for  Burnet  that  he  lived  in  such 
an  age.  His  weakness  of  character  laid  him  open  to  a 


BURNET  THE  BUTT  OF  THE  DAY.         295 

thousand  attacks.  The  whole  circle  of  tory  wits  fast- 
ened upon  him  as  their  lawful  prey.  The  good  bishop 
fell  into  the  hands  of  a  thousand  tormentors  who  showed 
him  no  pity.  His  indiscretions  in  conversation  were 
told  with  pleasant  exaggeration  from  courtier  to  cour- 
tier, until  the  whole  drawing-room  was  convulsed  with 
laughter.  His  apparent  vanity,  his  bustling  self-im- 
portance were  sure  marks  for  satire.  His  three  rich 
wives,  his  dissipated  son,  his  blind  hatred  for  toryism, 
his  partiality  for  dissenters,  even  his  visits  to  "Wilmot's 
victim  and  Charles's  dying  mistress  were  not  spared  by 
the  untiring  wits. 

His  indiscretions  in  conversation  were  exceedingly 
ludicrous.  When  he  was  in  Paris  the  Countess  of  Sois- 
eons,  the  mother  of  the  Prince  Eugene,  and  several 
other  ladies,  had  been  imprisoned  on  charge  of  poison- 
ing. The  prince  afterwards  came  over  to  visit  England. 
Burnet  asked  Marlborough  to  give  him  an  opportunity 
of  meeting  the  prince.  At  the  dinner,  to  which  he  was 
in  consequence  invited,  he  resolved  to  sit  silent  and  un- 
known. Eugene,  seeing  a  dignified  clergyman  among 
the  guests,  asked  who  he  was ;  and,  learning  that  it  was 
Burnet,  of  whom  he  had  heard  so  much,  addressed  him, 
asking  him  when  he  was  last  in  Paris.  Burnet  had  for- 
gotten the  year.  He  hesitated  ;  and  then  replied  with 
more  than  his  usual  mal-adroitness,  "  that  he  believed 
it  was  the  year  when  the  Countess  de  Soissons  had  been 
imprisoned."  His  eyes  suddenly  met  those  of  the  Duke 
of  Marlborougb :  he  felt  his  mistake ;  was  confused,  and 
then  redoubled  his  fault  by  asking  pardon  of  the  prince. 


296  HIS   BLUNDERS. 

The  whole  company  was  embarrassed,  and  the  unlucky 
prelate,  covered  with  confusion,  fled  from  the  room  in 
dismay.  Once,  when  Lady  Stair  had  introduced  Mr. 
James  Lindsay,  the  last  earl  of  Balcarras,  to  him,  he 
asked  her  in  the  midst  of  a  large  company  "  What  had 
become  of  that  wicked  wretch,  Lady  "Wigton?"  She 
was  the  sister  of  Balcarras. 

Such  were  the  stories  told  of  his  habitual  blunders. 
It  is  easy  to  imagine  how  the  tories  enjoyed  these  petty 
discomfitures  of  their  great  foe.  How  Arbuthnot  and 
Pope,  and  Swift,  all  alive  to  the  ludicrous,  and  over- 
flowing with  party  zeal,  would  rejoice  to  make  the 
famous  whig  a  laughing-stock  to  his  contemporaries. 

Burnet  was  indeed  fallen.  Under  the  rule  of  the 
triumphant  tories  he  lived  in  constant  humiliation  and 
distrust.  He  feared  that  the  great  work  which  had  been 
accomplished  at  the  revolution,  was  to  be  undone  by 
the  reigning  faction.  On  all  sides  he  heard  avowed 
doctrines  of  passive  obedience,  and  of  hatred  to  the 
moderates,  almost  as  violent  as  those  which  had  marked 
the  reign  of  James.  He  believed  that  within  the  heart 
of  the  ruling  party  a  project  was  forming  almost  as  ter- 
rible to  Englishmen  as  that  which  Oates  and  Dangerfield 
had  professed  to  reveal.  He  was  certain  that  many 
powerful  statesmen  were  engaged  to  bring  back  the 
popish  pretender.  He  feared  that  the  design  was 
neither  unknown  nor  disapproved  of  b;y»  the  queen. 
These  opinions  were  shared  by  all  the  whigs,  although 
in  Burnet  they  were  probably  more  violent  than  in  any 
other  man.  Popery  was  to  him  a  constant  terror.  He 


297 

could  not  think  of  it  without  horror.  And  when  he 
believed  that  the  fatal  thing  was  about  to  be  brought 
back  to  that  country  from  which  he  had  thought  it 
expelled  for  ever,  his  sermons  and  his  pen  grew  as 
sharp  against  the  tories  as  when  he  had  exhorted  at 
the  Rolls  chapel  against  the  secret  wiles  of  Charles. 

The  tories  turned  aside  his  blows  with  ridicule.  Even 
the  gentle  Parnell  grew  angry  to  hear  his  friends 
called  Jacobites  and  papists.  Those  who  remember 
his  fine  lines  to  his  patron  Bolingbroke,  will  be  pleased 
to  learn  how  he  could  treat  his  foes.  He  tells  in  verse 
the  following  story  of  Burnet : 

"  From  that  dread  hour,  bane  of  Sarum's  pride, 
Which  broke  his  schemes,  and  laid  his  friends  aside, 
He  talks,  he  writes  that  Popery  will  return, 
And  we  and  he  and  all  his  writings  burn. 
What  touched  himself  was  almost  faithful  proved, 
(Oh,  far  from  Britain  be  the  rest  removed ); 
For  as  of  late  he  meant  to  bless  the  age 
With  flagrant  prefaces  of  party  rage. 
O'erweighed  with  passion  and  the  subject's  weight, 
Lolling,  he  nodded  o'er  his  elbow  seat, 
Down  fell  the  candle ;  grease  and  zeal  conspire  ; 
Heat  meets  with  heat,  and  pamphlets  burn  their  fire. 
Here  crawls  a  preface  on  its  half-burnt  maggots, 
And  then  an  introduction  brings  its  faggots  ; 
Here  roars  the  prophet  of  the  northern  nation 
Close  by  a  flaming  speech  on  moderation. 
Unwarned  by  these,  go  on  the  realm  to  fright 
Thou  Briton,  boasting  of  thy  second-sight. 
In  such  a  crisis  may  you  safely  tell 
How  much  you'd  suffer  if  religion  fell. 

13* 


298  POPE   AND    SWIFT    ON    BUKNET. 

The  author  of  the  Hermit  was  evidently  no  satirist. 
His  feeble  ridicule  leaves  no  wound.  It  wants  the 
poison  with  which  Swift  and  Pope  touched  their  shafts. 
But  Burnet  was  now  busy  with  his  History  of  his  Own 
Times.  The  nature  of  this  work  had  gone  abroad, 
although  it  had  not  been  published.  Its  violent  whig 
doctrines,  its  unfavorable  mention  of  his  leading  oppo- 
nents, the  artless  vanity  of  the  author,  his  personal  de- 
tails of  his  wives,  his  acquaintances,  his  relatives,  and  the 
share  he  had  taken  in  the  events  of  several  reigns, 
were  well  known  to  his  friends  and  foes.  He  seems 
to  have  been  singularly  indiscreet  in  showing  the  me- 
moirs. His  design  was  that  they  should  not  be  pub- 
lished until  six  years  after  his  death.  And  yet  Pope 
was  enabled  to  write  while  Burnet  was  yet  living  a 
parody  so  amusingly  accurate,  that  he  seems  to  have 
been  acquainted  with  their  most  insignificant  charac- 
teristics. 

The  "  Memoirs  of  P.  P.,  Clerk  of  this  Parish,"  did  not 
appear  until  1727,  although  written  long  before.  They 
were  printed  in  that  laughable,  indecent  and  inhuman 
volume  of  Miscellanies  of  which  Pope  and  Swift  were 
not  ashamed  to  confess  publicly  the  authorship.  P.  P., 
like  Burnet,  writes  the  history  of  his  times.  The  satire 
upon  Burnet's  political  narrative  is  exact.  "After  this 
the  book  (the  Parish  Clerk's  Memoirs)  is  turned  011  a 
sudden  from  his  own  life  to  a  history  of  all  the  public 
transactions  of  Europe,  compiled  from  the  newspapers 
of  tjiose  times.  I  could  not  comprehend  the  meaning 


THE    WIITG3    IN    OFFICE.  299 

of  this,  till  I  perceived  at  last,  to  my  no  small  astonish- 
ment, that  all  the  measures  of  the  four  last  years  of 
the  Queen,  together  with  the  peace  of  Utrecht,  which 
have  usually  been  attributed  to  the  Earl  of  Oxford,  Duke 
of  Ormond,  Lords  Harcourt  and  Bolingbroke,  and  other 
great  men,  do  here  most  plainly  appear  to  have  been 
wholly  owing  to  Robert  Jenkin,  Amos  Turner,  George 
Pilcocks,  Thomas  White,  but  above  all  P.  P." 

A  gleam  of  triumph  cheered  the  closing  years  of  the 
great  whig  prelate.  The  rule  of  the  tories  ended  with 
the  life  of  Anne.  Her  sudden  death  brought  ruin  upon 
that  party.  If  Burnet  had  been  revengeful,  his  utmost 
malice  might  have  been  satisfied  with  the  doom  of  his 
opponents.  But  those  eminent  men  whom  he  had  so 
feared  as  concealed  Jacobites  and  papists,  now  only 
merited  his  compassion.  The  amiable,  accomplished, 
and  indolent  Oxford  was  a  prisoner  in  the  Tower,  trem- 
bling for  his  head.  Bolingbroke,  more  guilty,  had  fled 
attainted  and  impoverished  to  France.  Prior  was  a 
prisoner  with  Oxford.  And  Swift,  so  lately  the  pride 
of  letters,  the  ruling  mind  of  his  time,  had  now  shrunk 
back  moody  and  misanthropic  to  his  deanery  in  Dublin, 
hoping  to  escape  in  insignificance  the  fury  of  his  foes. 

The  Hanoverian  family  were  warm  friends  to  Burnet. 
He  had  long  corresponded  with  the  electress  Sophia. 
George  I.  was  a  revolution  king,  whose  title  and  whose 
principles  had  been  determined  by  that  act  of  settlement 
in  which  Burnet  had  had  so  large  a  share.  Among  the 
great  whig  lords  who  now  hastened  to  greet  the  royal 


600  HIS    DEATH. 

head  of  that  party,  none  was  more  welcome  than  he. 
Bnrnet  now  published  a  third  volume  of  his  History  of 
the  Reformation,  a  kind  of  appendix  to  that  work. 
Perhaps  in  this  hour  of  triumph  he  delighted  to  recur 
to  these  labors  of  earlier  days  which  he  believed  to  have 
greatly  aided  the  success  of  Protestantism  in  England. 

At  all  events  he  could  now  die  in  peace.  No  trace 
of  a  coming  storm  could  even  his  vigilant  eye  discover 
upon  the  fair  horizon  of  England.  The  last  popish  plot 
had  been  defeated.  The  Jacobites  were  in  prison  or 
exile.  A  whig  king  sat  upon  the  throne.  The  dread 
of  Popery  which  had  pursued  him  all  his  life  through 
must  have  faded  at  last  for  ever.  His  vocation  was  over. 
He  had  no  plots  to  unravel,  no  Jesuits  to  encounter,  no 
dismal  pictures  to  draw  of  the  triumph  of  Popery  in 
Britain.  He  was  seized  with  a  cold  and  fever.  His 
relative,  the  eminent  Cheyne,  with  Sir  Hans  Sloane, 
attended  him,  but  could  not  save  him.  He  died  March 
27, 1714-15,  in  the  seventy-second  year  of  his  age,  calm, 
peaceful,  and  happy,  engaged  to  the  last  in  religious 
exercises,  and  taking  an  affectionate  leave  of  his  family. 
He  was  buried  at  St.  James,  Clerkenwell,  London.  In 
his  will  he  directed  that  the  "History  of  his  Own 
Times"  should  not  be  published  until  six  years  after  his 
death,  and  should  then  be  given  to  the  world  entire. 
He  would  have  none  of  it  suppressed. 

The  Earl  of  Halifax,  a  wit,  a  nobleman,  a  statesman, 
and  a  fine  writer,  has  recorded  in  few  lines  the  character 
of  his  friend.  "  Dr.  Burnet,"  says  Halifax,  "  is,  like  all 


HALIFAX    GIVES    HIS    CHARACTER.  301 

men  who  are  above  the  ordinary  level,  seldom  spoken 
of  in  a  mean  ;  he  must  either  be  hated  or  admired.  He 
has  a  swiftness  of  imagination  that  no  other  comes  up  to. 
His  friends  love  him  too  well  to  see  his  small  faults,  or 
if  they  do,  think  that  his  greater  talents  give  him  a 
privilege  of  straying  from  the  strict  rules  of  censure. 
He  produces  so  fast  that  what  is  w^ll  said  in  his  writings 
calls  for  admiration  ;  and  what  is  incorrect  deserves  an 
excuse.  He  is  not  quicker  in  discerning  other  men's 
faults  than  he  is  in  forgiving  them.  All  the  repeated 
provocations  of  his  adversaries  have  had  no  other  effect 
than  the  setting  his  good  nature  in  so  much  better  light, 
since  his  anger  never  yet  went  further  than  to  pity  them. 
His  quickness  makes  writing  so  easy  a  thing  for  him  that 
his  spirits  are  neither  wasted  nor  soured  by  it.  The 
soil  is  not  forced,  everything  grows  and  brings  forth 
without  pain.  He  makes  many  enemies  by  setting  an 
ill-natured  example  of  living  which  they  are  not  willing 
to  follow.  His  indifference  to  preferment ;  his  contempt 
not  only  of  splendor  but  of  all  unnecessary  plenty ;  his 
degrading  himself  to  the  lowest  and  most  painful  duties 
of  his  calling,  are  such  unprelatical  qualities  that,  let 
him  be  never  so  orthodox  in  other  things,  in  these  he 
must  be  a  dissenter.  Yirtues  of  such  a  stamp  are  so 
many  heresies  in  the  opinion  of  those  divines  who  have 
so  softened  the  primitive  injunctions  so  as  to  make  them 
suit  better  with  the  present  frailties  of  mankind.  Xo 
wonder,  then,  if  they  are  angry,  since  it  is  in  their  own 
defence,  or  that  from  a  principle  of  self-preservation 


302  HIS    FAMILY. 

they  should  endeavor  to  suppress  a  man  whose  party  is 
a  shame,  and  whose  life  is  a  scandal  to  them." 

By  his  second  wife  Burnet  left  three  sons  and  two 
daughters.  The  fate  of  the  latter  is  unknown,  but  the 
former  inherited  something  of  their  father's  abilities. 
William,  the  eldest,  was  so  dull  in  youth  that  it  was  be- 
lieved he  would  never  rise  to  any  eminence.  But  when 
he  was  about  nineteen  his  mind  began  to  unfold  itself. 
Burnet  was  unusually  careful  of  his  children's  education. 
He  provided  them  with  private  tutors  at  a  considerable 
expense,  sent  them  as  gentlemen  commoners  to  the  uni- 
versities, then  allowed  them  to  finish  their  studies  at 
Ley  den,  and  afterwards  permitted  them  to  travel  for 
two  or  three  years  abroad.  "William  became  a  lawyer. 
He  held  a  place  under  the  whigs  of  £1,200  a  year,  but 
suffered  severely  by  the  South  Sea  scheme.  He  was 
then  appointed  governor  of  New  York  and  New  Jersey. 
From  thence  he  was  removed  to  the  government  of 
Massachusetts.  He  entered  Boston  in  great  pomp,  but 
soon  fell  into  disputes  with  the  people  by  adhering 
rigidly  to  his  instructions.  These  difficulties  &eemed  to 
wear  upon  his  health.  He  soon  after  died  of  a  fever, 
amid  the  regret  of  the  people,  who  respected  while  they 
opposed  him.  His  descendants  are  still  found  in  America, 
and  several  have  become  eminent.  Gilbert,  the  second 
son,  inherited  his  father's  virtues  as  well  as  name.  He 
died  early,  before  he  had  an  opportunity  of  distinguish- 
ing himself. 

The  third,  Thomas,  was  one  of  the  gay  rakes  of  the 


THOMAS   BUBNET.  303 

time.  He  studied  law  at  the  Temple ;  his  associates, 
it  was  rumored,  were  the  wild  debauchees  who,  under 
the  name  of  Mohocks  and  Scourers,  infested  the  streets 
of  London  at  night,  attacking  the  watchmen  and  insult- 
ing passengers ;  who  amused  themselves  by  rolling  old 
women  in  empty  hogsheads  and  running  their  swords 
through  passing  chairs.  But  his  talents  were  far  above 
those  of  his  brothers.  In  the  midst  of  his  dissolute 
career  he  wrote  several  pieces  in  defence  of  the  whigs.' 
One  day  his  father,  seeing  him  grave  and  silent,  asked 
him  what  he  was  meditating.  "A  greater  work," 
replied  the  graceless  son,  "  than  your  lordship's  His- 
tory of  the  Reformation — my  own  reformation."  "I 
shall  be  heartily  glad  of  it,"  said  the  bishop,  "but 
almost  despair  to  see  it."  After  his  father's  death 
Thomas  became  an  eminent  lawyer  and  writer.  In 
1734:  he  published  an  edition  of  Burnet's  History  of  his 
Own  Times,  with  an  excellent  life  of  his  father  at  the 
close.  He  was  knighted,  and  died  a  justice  of  the 
common  pleas. 

Burnet's  whole  life  was  singularly  prosperous.  Amid 
the  troubled  scenes  through  which  he  passed,  he 
escaped  safe  from  every  danger  and  rose  'over  every 
difficulty.  His  course  was  ever  upward,  and  it  was 
unusually  rapid.  In  youth  he  gained  a  reputation  that 
spread  over  Scotland,  and  recommended  him  to  the 
English  court.  His  manhood  gave  him  a  weighty 
influence  such  as  few  others  beside  him  possessed.  The 
parish  priest  of  Saltoun  had  become  one  of  the  great 


304 

lights  of  his  time.  He  was  tempted  to  desert  his 
principles,  by  the  offer  of  a  bishopric,  before  he  was 
thirty-five,  and  was  sustained  in  his  resistance  to  the 
temptation  by  the  applause  of  the  great  body  of  his 
countrymen.  In  age  Burnet  was  the  adviser  and 
companion  of  kings.  One  of  the  famous  names  of 
Europe.  The  source  of  this  advancement  was  labor. 
His  life  was  one  of  endless  toil.  He  never  was  satisfied 
in  repose.  His  remarkable  mental  activity  found 
relief  in  unceasing  study,  in  a  great  profusion  of 
writing,  in  devotion  to  the  duties  of  his  party  and  his 
religion. 

In  his  activity,  his  versatility,  his  love  of  literature, 
of  scientific  experiments,  of  politics,  and  of  his  profes- 
sion, he  must  remind  the  reader  of  Lord  Brougham. 
In  character  they  are  remarkably  alike.  Both  are 
known  as  impetuous,  restless,  good-natured  men, 
learned,  inquisitive,  and  eccentric.  In  his  political 
tendencies  and  his  zeal  for  education,  his  ardor  for 
religious  and  civil  liberty,  Burnet  was  not  surpassed  by 
the  gifted  modern.  A  history  of  his  own  times  from 
the  pen  of  Brougham  would  reflect,  though  in  a 
polished  way,  the  leading  features  of  that  of  his  coun- 
tryman. 

feFs~writings  are '  still  popular.  His  History 
of  the  Reformation  is  in  the  hands  of  every  student  of 
religious  progress.  The  lives  of  Hale  and  Wilmot  are 
widely  read.  The  History  of  his  Own  Times  is  a  work 
of  unusual  interest.  Even  its  great  faults  lend  it  a 


HIS    STYLE.  305 


peculiar  charm.  The  ^nnocenLj^anit^  the  earnest 
sincerity,  his  fear  and  hatred  of  tory  .principles,  his 
blind  approval  of  those  of  the  whigs,  lend  to  Burnet's 
narrative  a  vigor  and  an  artlessness  that  win  the 
attention  of  the  reader.  His  learning,  upon  any  single 
topic,  was  not  great,  but  his  knowledge  extended  over 
a  wide  circle  of  subjects  peculiarly  well  suited  to  the 
designs  upon  which  lie  entered.  His_chief  works  had 
a  political  and  controversial  bearing.  They  were 
intended  to  serve  the  purposes  of  his  party  in  the  gov- 
ernment or  the  church.  They  were  written  hastily,  and 
seem  rather  to  satisfy  the  understanding  than  the 
taste.  It  is  a  sufficient  test,  therefore,  of  his  real 
ability,  that  notwithstanding  many  faults,  they  have 
attained  a  reputation  with  posterity  that  has  not  yet  died 
out. 

His  style  was  at  times  so  coarse  as  to  merit  all  the 
severity  of  Swift's  remarks.  It  was  disfigured  by 
Scotticisms  of  the  broadest  character  and  of  vulgarisms 
that  might  well  countenance  the  suspicion  of  the  critic 
that  he  must  have  learned  them  in  low  company. 
Some  of  Swift's  remarks  upon  his  unfortunate  phrases 
may  amuse  the  reader.  Says  Burnet  :  "  "When  the 
peace  of  Breda  was  concluded,  the  king  writ  to  the 
Scottish  council,  and  communicated  that  to  them  and 
with  that  signified  that  it  was  his  pleasure  that  the 
army  should  be  disbanded."  —  Swift  :  "  Here  are  four 
thats  in  one  line." 

Burnet  :  "  Home  was  convicted  on  the  credit  of  one 


306 


evidence.  Applications,  'tis  true,  were  made  to  the 
duke  of  York  for  saving  his  life ;  but  he  was  not  born 
under  a  pardoning  planet"  Swift :  "  Silly  fop !" 

Burnet :  "  Thus  Cromwell  had  all  the  king's  party  in 
a  net;  he  let  them  dance  in  at  pleasure,  and  upon 
occasions,  clapt  them  up  for  a  short  time  !" 

Burnet :  "  Their  discourses  were  long  and  heavy ; 
all  was  pyebald,  full  of  many  sayings  of  different  lan- 
guages." Swift :  "  A  noble  epithet !  How  came 
Burnet  not  to  learn  this  style?  He  surely  neglected 
his  own  talents."  The  phrases  for  a  court ;  a  pardoning 
planet ;  clapt  up  ;  left  in  the  lurch  ;  the  mob  ;  outed ;  a 
great  beauty  ;  went  roundly  to  work ;  Swift  collects  as 
a  few  of  the  beauties  of  Burnet's  style.  But  Burnet 
looked  upon  mere  style  as  of  little  importance  so  long 
as  his  arguments  fell  clear  and  weighty  upon  his  oppo- 
nents and  his  facts  sustained  his  arguments.  He 
despised  that  laborious  nicety  with  which  the  fine 
writers  of  his  time  selected  their  language  and  softened 
their  periods.  In  his  hurried  and  earnest  writing  he 
had  no  time  for  the  exercise  of  taste,  even  had  he 
possessed  it.  But  he  had  none.  He  was  not  conscious 
of  his  own  faults.  It  is  doubtful  whether  he  could  feel 
the  beauty  of  Addison's  writings  or  appreciate  the 
simplicity  of  Swift.  It  was  no  wonder,  therefore,  that 
the  literary  men  of  the  time  were  unwilling  to  admit 
Burnet  among  their  number  ;  that  they  looked  upon  his 
coarse  and  careless  writing  as  the  vain  attempt  of  a 
tasteless  pedant  to  join  the  ranks  of  the  immortals ; 


EXAMPLES    OF    HIS    STYLE.  307 

that  they  pursued  him  with  shouts  of  ridicule  and  con- 
tempt which  have  come  down  even  to  posterity  and  have 
deprived  him  of  much  of  that  real  esteem  which  would 
otherwise  have  been  his  reward. 

Yet  there  are  times  when  Burnet  writes  in  a  man- 
ner not  unworthy  of  his  severe  critic,  Swift.  There 
is,  in  fact,  a  strong  similarity  between  the  better  parts 
of  Burnet's  writing  and  that  of  the  eminent  dean.  He 
often  attains  a  simple  strength  almost  tasteful.  I  add  a 
few  examples  of  his  purer  style.  He  thus  notices 
the  effect  of  a  depraved  theatrical  taste. 

"  The  stage  is  the  great  comiptor  of  the  town  and 
the  bad  people  of  the  town  had  been  the  chief  cor- 
ruptors  of  the  stage,  who  run  most  after  those  plays 
that  defile  the  stage  and  the  audience.  Poets  will  seek 
to  please,  as  actors  will  look  for  such  pieces  as  draw 
most  spectators.  They  pretend  their  design  is  to  dis- 
courage vice,  but  they  really  do  recommend  it  in  the 
most  effectual  manner.  It  is  a  shame  to  our  nation  and 
religion  to  see  the  stage  so  reformed  in  France  and  so 
polluted  still  in  England.  Moliere  for  comedy,  and 
Racine  for  tragedy,  are  great  patterns ;  few  can,  as  few 
will  care  to,  copy  after  them.  But  till  another  such 
appears,  certainly  our  plays  are  the  greatest  debauchers 
of  the  nation." 

He  relates  his  impressions  of  the  kings  and  queens  he 
had  known/  "  I  have  had  the  honor  to  be  admitted  to 
much  free  conversation  with  five  of  our  sovereigns, 
King  Charles  the  Second,  King  James,  King  William 


308  CHAELES   II.    AXD   WILLIAM    II. 

III.,  Queen  Mary  and  Queen  Anne.  King  Charles' 
behavior  was  a  thing  never  enough  to  be  commended ; 
he  was  a  perfectly  well-bred  man,  easy  of  access,  free 
in  his  discourse,  and  sweet  in  his  whole  deportment ; 
this  was  managed  with  great  art  and  it  concealed  bad 
designs :  it  was  of  such  use  to  him  that  it  may  teach 
succeeding  princes  of  what  advantage  an  easiness  of 
access  and  an  obliging  behavior  may  be ;  and  it  often 
dissipated  those  resentments  which  his  ill  conduct  in 
acting,  both  public  and  private,  possessed  all  thinking 
people  with  very  early  and  all  sorts  of  people  at  last. 
And  yet  none  could  go  to  him  but  they  were  in  a  great 
measure  softened  before  they  left  him.  It  looked  like 
a  charm  that  could  hardly  be  resisted,  yet  there  was  no 
good  nature  under  that  nor  was  there  any  truth  in  him. 
King  James  had  great  application  to  business,  but  with- 
out a  right  understanding :  that  application  gave  him  a 
reputation  till  he  came  to  office.  If  he  had  not  come 
after  Charles  he  would  have  passed  for  a  prince  of  sweet 
temper  and  easy  of  access.  King  William  was  the 
reverse  of  all  these ;  he  was  scarcely  accessible  and  was 
always  cold  and  silent;  he  minded  affairs  abroad  so 
much  and  was  so  set  on  the  war  that  he  scarce  thought 
of  the  government  at  home.  This  raised  a  general 
disgust,  which  was  improved  by  men  of  ill  designs  until 
it  perplexed  all  his  affairs  and  he  could  scarcely  restrain 
the  torrent  at  home  while  he  w^as  the  adviser  of  all 
abroad.  Queen  Mary  was  affable,  cheerful  and  lively, 
spoke  much  and  yet  was  under  great  reserve,  minded 


CHIEF   DEFECT   OF   HIS    WHITINGS.  309 

business  and  came  to  understand  it  well ;  she  kept  close 
to  rules,  chiefly  to  those  set  her  by  the  king ;  and  she 
charmed  all  that  came  near  her.  Queen  Anne  is  easy 
of  access  and  hears  every  thing  very  gently ;  but  opens 
herself  to  so  few,  and  is  so  cold  and  general  in  her 
answers,  that  people  soon  find  that  the  chief  application 
is  to  be  made  to  her  ministers  and  favorites,  who  in 
their  turns  have  entire  credit  and  full  power  with  her. 
She  has  laid  down  the  splendor  of  a  courtier  too  much, 
and  eats  privately,  so  that,  except  on  Sundays  and  a  few 
hours  twice  or  thrice  a  week  at  night,  in  her  drawing- 
room,  she  appears  so  little,  that  her  court  is,  as  it  were, 
abandoned." 

""The  chief  defect  of  Burnet's  writings  is  their  want  of 
sensibility.  He  never  touches  the  feelings.  Even  the 
most  affecting  details  come  from  his  pen  with  a  coldness 
that  robs  them  of  half  their  effect.  It  was  impossible 
for  him  to  write  the  history  of  the  sufferings  of  England 
and  Scotland  under  the  Stuarts,  without  relating  many 
circumstances  in  themselves  singularly  pathetic,  but  he 
never  aims  nor  had  he  the  power  to  weave  these  details 
into  a  moving  and  graceful  picture.  He  could  not 
narrate  the  miserable  doom  of  the  Protestants  under 
Louis  XI Y.,  nor  recount  the  last  moments  of  Russell  or 
of  Stafford,  without  some  show  of  emotion;  but  the 
sympathy  of  the  writer  is  surpassed  by  that  of  his 
reader.  With  this  want  of  sensibility  was  joined  an 
absence  of  the  imaginative  power  and  a  thorough 
dislike  to  poetry.  In  Dryden  he  could  only  see  "a 


310  BUKNET    AS    AX    OBATOK. 

monster  of  immorality  and  impiety  of  all  sorts."  He 
calls  the  author  of  Alma  "one  Prior"  and  relates  with 
something  of  exultation  that  he  had  been  "  taken  from 
a  tavern."  Of  Yirgil  his  opinion  would  coincide  with 
that  of  many  moderns.  He  thinks  him  rather  an 
eloquent  versifier  than  a  poet. 

Yet,  though  without  imagination,  or  taste,  or  poetical 
power,  Burnet  became  a  great  orator,  the  most  famous 
in  England.  His  sermons  attracted  vast  audiences,  who 
signified  their  satisfaction,  as  was  the  custom  then,  by 
subdued  applause.  Often  when  he  seemed  about  to 
close,  they  would  encourage  him  to  continue  by  a 
louder  demonstration.  They  were  never  tired  listening 
to  one  who  could  so  fix  their  attention.  Burnet's  power 
lay  in  the  unusual  strength  of  his  convictions.  He 
spoke  with  the  ardor  of  one  who  believed  every  word 
that  he  uttered.  His  hatred  to  Popery,  to  arbitrary 
principles,  and  to  oppression  of  every  kind,  in  those 
dangerous  times,  animated  his  unpolished  extemporary 
eloquence  with  a  warmth  almost  superhuman.  With 
none  of  the  arts  of  a  polished  orator  and  with  a  mal- 
adroitness  that  was  often  ludicrous  and  embarrassing,  he 
still  retained  much  of  his  influence  as  a  speaker  when 
in  the  house  of  peers.  His  commanding  figure  and 
voice,  his  reputation  for  learning,  his  sincerity  and 
moderation  united  with  his  energetic  warmth  in  atoning 
for  his  other  deficiencies.  And  friends  and  foes  agreed 
in  pronouncing  him  one  of  the  greatest  orators  of  tho 
age  of  Massillon  and  Bourdaloue. 


HIS   LIBERAL    PRINCIPLES.  311 

As  a  man  of  letters,  the  character  in  which  he  must 
be  content  to  live  among  posterity,  stripped  of  his  high 
offices  and  his  royal  and  noble  associations,  Burnet  can 
neither  take  a  very  high  nor  a  very  low  position.  He 
wants  many  of  the  first  requisites  of  the  great  writer,  a 
pleasing  style,  a  refined  taste,  a  delicate  sensibility. 
His  histories  are  arranged  without  art,  and  with  none 
of  those  philosophic  views  which  indicate  a  reflective 
power.  He  thought  justly  but  not  deeply ;  he  wrote 
clearly  but  too  hastily ;  and  the  only  trait  that  will  give 
vitality  to  his  writings  is  the  constancy  with  which  they 
defend  freedom  of  thought  in  politics  and  religion. 


THOMAS  FULLEE. 

THOMAS  FULLEE,  tlie  author  of  an.  Ecclesiastical  His- 
tory, was  born  in  Northamptonshire.  His  father,  a 
respectable  clergyman,  sent  him  to  Cambridge,  where 
he  studied  under  the  care  of  a  maternal  uncle,  Dr. 
Davenant,  afterwards  Bishop  of  Salisbury.  Destined 
for  the  Church,  Fuller's  religious  feelings  early  displayed 
themselves  in  a  poem  upon  the  sin  and  repentance  of 
Xing  David.  This  poem  became  widely  known  among 
his  contemporaries,  and  was  liberally  praised.  It  was 
printed  at  London  1651,  in  8vo.  Fuller  was  also  a 
popular  preacher,  and  no  doubt  kept  his  audience  awake 
by  the  same  play  of  conceits  and  affected  brilliancy  that 
mark  his  historical  writings.  In  1631  he  was  named 
prebendary  of  the  Cathedral  of  Salisbury,  and  soon  after 
became  rector  of  Broad  Winsor  in  Dorsetshire.  His 
first  historical  work,  the  History  of  the  Holy  "War,  em- 
bracing an  account  of  the  Crusades  from  the  first  of  those 
wild  adventures  in  1096,  to  the  final  one  in  1290,  ap- 
peared in  1640  at  Cambridge,  and  was  well  received. 
It  passed  through  many  editions.  ISTot  long  after,  Fuller 


THE  CIVIL  WAJR.  313 

was  called  to  London,  and  named  preacher  at  the  Savoy. 
His  literary  fame  and  his  popular  oratory  drew  crowds 
wherever  he  appeared ;  he  became  one  of  the  most  dis- 
tinguished divines  of  the  time,  and  everything  seemed 
to  promise  for  him  the  highest  preferment  in  the  church. 

At  this  moment  broke  out  that  fearful  civil  war  which 
disappointed  the  hopes  of  Englishmen  for  so  long  a  time. 
Fuller  was  a  royalist,  warmly  linked  to  the  party  in  the 
king ;  and  when  Charles  had  fled  from  London,  he  be- 
came exposed  to  the  distrust  and  ill  offices  of  the  Puri- 
tans. He  was,  however,  so  moderate  in  his  views  that 
to  the  royalists  he  seemed  lukewarm,  and  was  even  sus- 
pected at  Oxford  of  treachery  to  the  king.  In  this  strait 
Fuller  resolved  to  fly  from  London  and  unite  his  fate 
with  that  of  his  master.  Charles  received  the  famous 
preacher  with  favor.  Fuller  was  soon  named  chaplain 
to  Sir  Ralph  Hopton,  and  was  enabled  to  regain  the 
complete  confidence  of  his  party  by  an  exploit  of  singu- 
lar daring.  In  the  absence  of  Sir  Ralph  Hopton,  Fuller 
was  left  in  charge  of  Basing  House,  with  only  a  few 
attendants.  The  house  was  suddenly  attacked  by  Sir 
William  Waller,  with  a  considerable  force.  But  such 
was  the  warm  defence  of  the  little  garrison,  that  the 
parliamentary  party  was  obliged  to  retreat  before  its 
clerical  antagonist. 

Some  months  after,  Fuller  was  named  chaplain  to  the 
Princess  Henrietta  Marie,  with  whom  he  remained 
until  the  royal  family  fled  to  France.  He  then  boldly 
went  back  to  London,  where  the  Puritans  allowed  him 

14: 


314:  THE  ECCLESIASTICAL  HISTORY. 

to  resume  his  clerical  duties,  deprived,  however,  of  his 
salary,  and  dependent  upon  his  small  patrimony  for  a 
support.  His  own  poverty  did  not  prevent  him  from 
aiding  many  of  the  distressed  clergy  who  were  often  in 
want  of  food  and  a  proper  protection  for  themselves  and 
their  families.  The  generosity  of  Fuller  was  constantly 
apparent ;  he  drew  from  his  own  small  resources,  as 
well  as  from  subscriptions  which  he  assiduously  gathered, 
considerable  sums  for  his  suffering  brethren.  About 
1648  he  was  chaplain  to  the  Countess  of  .Carlisle,  who 
gave  him  the  living  of  Waltham  in  Essex. 

During  all  his  trials  and  the  troubled  scenes  through 
which  he  had  passed,  Fuller  had  never  ceased  to  write 
and  to  publish.  In  1656  appeared  his  Ecclesiastical 
History  of  Great  Britain  from  the  birth  of  Christ  to 
1648.  To  this  was  added  a  history  of  the  University  of 
Cambridge  after  the  Conquest,  and  the  annals  of  the 
Abbey  of  Waltham.  He  wrote  upon  all  these  topics  in 
the  same  affected,  novel,  and  amusing  style,  never 
sparing  a  joke  or  missing  a  conceit,  yet  with  the  learn- 
ing of  an  antiquarian  and  the  research  of  a  diligent  stu- 
dent. His  church  history,  his  chief  production,  is  still 
admired  and  generally  read,  and  no  one  can  be  insensi- 
ble to  its  peculiar  merits,  its  accuracy,  moderation,  its 
novel  style  and  brilliant  play  of  language. 

At  the  Restoration  he  was  restored  to  his  benefice,  and 
named  chaplain  to  the  king.  He  would  no  doubt  have 
obtained  a  bishopric,  but  death  came  on  the  13th 
August,  1661,  in  his  fifty-third  year,  to  close  his  varied 


HIS   OTHEE  WORKS.  315 

career.  His  remaining  works  are  the  History  of  the 
"Worthies  of  England,  which  appeared  after  his  death  in 
folio,  with  a  portrait,  his  sermons,  and  various  devotional 
writings.  Fuller  was  possessed  of  a  peculiar  genius, 
eccentric  and  novel,  but  of  that  class  that  seldom  ele- 
vates its  possessor  to  the  highest  fame.  In  society,  as  in 
his  writings,  he  was  gay,  jovial,  fond  of  epigram,  and 
abounding  in  humorous  conceits ;  his  character  was 
benevolent  and  pure ;  and  although  he  has  not  ascended 
high  in  the  scale  of  historical  reputation,  yet  he  deserves, 
both  on  account  of  his  character  and  writings,  a  respect- 
able place  among  the  minor  historians. 


LAURENCE  ECHARD. 

ANOTHER  popular  historian,  whose  fame,  however, 
has  long  since  declined,  was  Laurence  Echard.  He  was 
born  at  Cassam,  in  Suffolk,  in  1671,  the  son  of  a  clergy- 
man in  good  circumstances,  who  sent  him  to  Cambridge, 
where  he  took  his  degree  of  master  of  arts,  1695.  He 
entered  holy  orders,  and  was  presented  to  the  living  of 
"Wotton  and  Elkinton,  in  Lincolnshire,  where  he  passed 
above  twenty  years  of  his  life.  During  all  this  period 
Echard  was  diligently  employed  in  writing  history. 
The  subjects  upon  which  he  fixed  his  attention  were 
chiefly  classical ;  and  connected  with  the  history  of 
Rome.  One  of  his  earliest  works,  "The  Roman  His- 
tory," from  the  building  of  the  city  to  Augustus,  was 
highly  popular ;  and  by  1699,  had  gone  through  four 
editions.  He  continued  this  work  to  the  age  of  Con- 
stantine,  and  dedicated  his  new  volumes  to  the  Duke 
of  Gloucester,  for  whom  it  had  been  chiefly  written. 
In  1702,  he  published  a  general  ecclesiastical  history, 
extending  from  the  birth  of  the  Saviour  to  the  death  of 
Constantine,  which  soon  ran  through  six  editions,  and 


HIS  HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND.  317 

was  considered  by  his  contemporaries  the  best  work  of 
its  kind  in  the  language.  It  was  dedicated  to  Queen 
Anne,  and  Echard  was  now  surrounded  by  all  the 
evidences  of  assured  fame.  He  was  familiar  with  the 
powerful,  was  renowned  as  the  chief  historian  of  the 
time,  and  might  well  believe  himself  destined  for  im- 
mortality. 

"While  prebend  of  Lincoln  and  chaplain  to  the  bishop 
of  the  diocese,  he  printed,  in  1707,  in  one  volume  folio, 
"  The  History  of  England,"  from  the  first  entering  of 
Julius  Caesar  and  the  Romans  to  the  end  of  the  reign 
of  James  I.  This  work  was  written  at  the  suggestion 
of  the  Duke  of  Ormond,  to  whom  it  was  dedicated. 
Echard  wrote  with  clearness,  and  was  possessed  of  some 
learning.  His  histories  had  all  remarkable  success.  In 
1713  he  was  installed  archdeacon  of  Stowe,  and  in  1718 
published  two  more  volumes,  which  brought  the  narra- 
tive down  to  the  revolution.  Although  these  volumes 
were  dedicated  to  King  George  I.,  Echard  was  a  tory, 
and  while  pretending  to  approve  of  the  revolution,  con- 
demned the  principles  upon  which  it  had  been  con- 
ducted. He  palliates  the  faults  of  the  Stuarts,  and 
excuses  the  harsh  treatment  of  the  nonconformists. 
This  work  was  sharply  assailed  by  Calamy,  who  shows 
it  to  be  imperfect  and  superficial.  Oldmixon,  also,  in 
his  history  of  the  Stuarts,  attacks  it  with  equal  bit- 
terness. 

The  fame  of  Echard,  so  imposing  to  his  contem- 
poraries, has  long  since  passed  away.  He  now  neither 


318  OTHER  WOKKS. 

awakens  envy  nor  merits  attention.  He  was,  however, 
successful  in  carrying  off  the  emoluments  of  literature. 
George  I.  rewarded  his  labors  by  several  rich  benefices ; 
and  he  died,  16th  August,  1730,  full  of  honors  and  of 
fame,  to  be  soon  forgotten.  He  married  twice,  but  left 
no  children.  He  wrote  besides  a  "  History  of  the  Revo- 
lution in  1688,"  one  volume,  octavo ;  the  "  Gazetteer, 
or  Newsman's  Interpreter,"  a  sort  of  geographical  index 
to  the  courts  and  cities  of  Europe,  and  a  translation  of 
the  comedies  of  Plautus.  But  no  one  of  Echard's 
works  rises  above  the  level  of  a  third-rate  writer,  or 
have  found  admirers  among  posterity. 


KOBEET  BEADY. 

EGBERT  BEADY,  historian  and  physician,  was  born  in 
the  county  of  Norfolk,  entered  Caius  College,  Cam- 
bridge, in  1643,  took  his  degree  of  bachelor  of  physic, 
1653,  and  was  afterwards  created  doctor  of  that  faculty, 
by  the  king's  mandatory  letter,  in  1660.  The  same  year 
he  was  appointed  master  of  his  college,  and  became,  in 
1670,  keeper  of  the  records  of  the  Tower  of  London. 
Soon  after,  he  was  made  regius  professor  of  physic  in 
the  University  of  Cambridge,  and  wrote,  in  1679,  a  letter 
to  Dr.  Sydenham  upon  several  medical  topics  which 
then  possessed  the  interest  of  novelty — on  the  effect  of 
air  upon  the  body,  of  Peruvian  bark,  and  upon  the 
possibility  of  finding  a  substitute  for  bleeding.  These 
various  appointments,  to  which  he  so  easily  attained, 
show  that  Brady  possessed  not  only  unusual  abilities, 
but  had  made  himself  acceptable  to  the  party  in  power. 
He  was  a  zealous  royalist  and  in  all  his  writings  inclined 
to  the  extreme  views  of  the  most  rigid  of  that  party. 
The  chief  aim  of  his  political  writings  is  to  prove  the 


320 


crown  of  England  to  be  hereditary  rather  than  elective, 
as  was  urged  by  the  liberals  of  the  time. 

As  keeper  of  the  records  of  the  Tower,  Brady  had 
been  led  to  examine  the  earlier  history  of  his  country. 
He  first  wrote  an  introduction  to  ancient  British  history, 
and  afterwards  "  a  complete  history  of  England  "  to  the 
reign  of  Eichard  II.  These  works  show  considerable 
research,  and  much  of  the  spirit  of  the  antiquarian: 
they  want,  however,  every  charm  of  style  and  all  the 
higher  elements  of  literary  excellence.  In  politics 
Brady  anticipated  some  of  the  speculations  of  Hume, 
and  Gilbert  Stuart,  the  Thersites  of  Edinburgh,  in  the 
time  of  its  greatest  fame,  used  to  accuse  Hume  of  having 
borrowed  largely  from  Brady.  There  was,  no  doubt, 
some  foundation  for  this  charge ;  Hume  was  accustomed 
to  borrow  liberally,  and  probably  consulted  Brady  and 
Carte  more  frequently  than  the  more  recondite  authori- 
ties to  whom  he  so  often  refers. 

Brady  was  in  all  respects  a  prosperous  author,  if  not 
a  man  of  genius.  He  was  in  Parliament  from  Cam- 
bridge, was  physician  in  ordinary  to  James  II.,  and  was 
one  of  the  witnesses  to  the  birth  of  the  pretender, 
James'  son.  He  died  19th  August,  1700,  in  easy 
circumstances,  and  chiefly  known  as  a  vigorous  oppo- 
nent of  the  liberal  and  popular  party. 


JOJDsT  OLDMIXOK 

JOHN  OLDMIXON  is  better  known  as  the  object  of  the 
unsparing  ridicule  of  Pope  than  for  any  of  his  own  pro- 
ductions. Yet  he  was  an  author  of  some  talent  and 
industry,  and  made  himself  sufficiently  conspicuous  to 
obtain  a  prominent  place  in  the  Dunciad.  He  was  born 
in  the  county  of  Somerset,  but  the  exact  year  of  his 
birth  is  unknown.  His  character  was  never  pure,  and 
his  reputation  never  rose  to  any  height.  His  political 
intolerance  led  him  to  abuse  the  tories  with  all  the 
coarseness  of  a  hireling  writer ;  his  literary  jealousy  im- 
pelled him  to  a  violent  attack  upon  Pope.  This  bold- 
ness was  rewarded  by  immortality.  He  is  represented 
in  the  Dunciad  as  mounting  the  sides  of  a  lighter  to 
plunge  deeper  in  the  slime  of  the  Thames.  Bishop 
Kennet  having  employed  him  to  publish  his  collection 
of  historians,  Oldmixon  did  not  scruple  to  alter  several 
facts  in  the  chronicles  of  Daniel,  and,  afterwards,  sup- 
posing others  to  be  capable  of  equal  bad  faith,  accused 
Atterbury  of  having  altered  Clarendon's  history.  The 

14* 


322  OLDMIXION'S  CHIEF  WOEK. 

wliig  party  gave  him  a  place  in  the  customs  at  Bridge- 
water,  where  he  died  July,  1742,  at  an  advanced  age. 

His  chief  work  was  a  history  of  the  reign  of  the  Stuarts 
in  folio,  a  production  which  no  doubt  suggested  to  Hume 
the  plan  and  title  of  his  first  two  volumes.  This  work, 
although  highly  popular  in  its  own  time,  has  had  little 
success  with  posterity.  It  wants  fidelity,  accuracy  of 
research,  a  pleasing  style  and  a  philosophic  tone ;  and 
it  was  no  doubt  a  great  encouragement  to  Hume  that 
he  had  no  more  formidable  rival  than  the  imperfect 
Volumes  of  Oldmixon.  He  wrote  also  an  account  of  the 
British  Empire  in  America,  a  description  of  the  colonies 
belonging  to  the  crown,  which  appeared  in  two  volumes 
in  1708.  It  had  considerable  success,  and  was  even 
translated  into  French  and  German.  His  attack  on 
Swift's  project  of  an  Academy  of  Language;  his  Life 
of  Arthur  Mainwaring ;  his  Essays ;  the  Life  of  Queen 
Anne ;  a  critical  History  of  England,  and  various  con- 
tributions to  the  newspapers,  show  the  fertility  and 
labor,  if  not  the  power  of  his  intellect.  But  a  few  lines 
of  bitter  satire  in  the  Dunciad  have  done  more  to  pre- 
serve the  name  of  John  Oldmixon  to  posterity  than  all 
his  own  labored  productions. 


THOMAS    CAKTE. 

THE  name  of  Thomas  Carte  is  little  better  known  in 
our  day  than  that  of  Brady  or  Echard.  In  his  own  age 
he  was  the  favorite  writer  of  the  Jacobite  party.  His  his- 
tory of  England  was  believed  to  be  authentic,  wise,  and 
eloquent ;  and  was  viewed  by  a  large  party  as  the  finest 
work  of  the  age.  Carte  was  born  at  Clifton  in  "Warwick- 
shire, at  which  place  his  father  was  vicar  about  the 
year  1686.  He  was  baptized,  it  is  related,  by  immer- 
sion. He  entered  Oxford  before  he  was  twelve  years 
of  age,  and  took  degree  of  A.  B.  in  1702.  He  could 
not  have  been  more  than  twenty  when  he  received  his 
master's  degree.  Having  entered  the  church,  he  made 
himself  conspicuous  by  a  sermon  which  he  preached 
Jan.  30th,  1713,  in  which  he  vindicated  King  Charles 
I.  from  the  charge  of  having  instigated  the  Irish 
massacre,  just  before  the  civil  wars.  This  sermon 
was  attacked  by  a  dissenting  minister  of  Bath,  Mr. 
Chandler,  and  Carte  replied  by  publishing  his  first 
work,  "  The  Irish  Massacre  set  in  a  clear  light." 

On  the  accession  of  George  I.,  his  Jacobite  principles 


824-  HE   GOES   ABROAD. 

forbidding  him  to  take  the  oath  of  allegiance,  he 
assumed  a  lay  habit  and  abandoned  his  clerical  duties. 
It  was  believed  that  he  had  taken  part  in  the  rebellion 
of  1715,  and  a  party  of  troops  were  sent  to  arrest  him ; 
but  he  fled  to  the  house  of  a  clergyman  of  Colehill, 
where  he  found  refuge  until  the  danger  passed  away. 
Here  he  became  curate,  and  was  afterward  chaplain 
to  the  famous  Bishop  Atterbury.  From  this  connection 
he  was  involved  in  new  difficulties,  for  Atterbury  was 
soon  after  convicted  of  having  conspired  to  bring  over 
the  pretender,  and  Carte  was  implicated  in  the  treason. 
A  thousand  pounds  were  offered  for  his  arrest ;  he  fled 
to  France,  where  he  lived  under  the  name  of  Phillips, 
well  known  to  many  men  of  learning  and  eminence. 
Here  he  commenced  an  edition  of  De  Thou's  history, 
which  was  afterwards  published  in  seven  volumes, 
folio. 

Queen  Caroline,  having  heard  of  Carte's  literary 
merit,  obtained  permission  for  him  to  return  to  Eng- 
land. He  next  published  his  Life  of  the  Duke  of 
Ormond  in  1735,  containing  many  new  letters  and 
facts.  This  life  pleased  the  tories.  Lord  Orrery  wrote 
to  Carte  that  Dean  Swift  honored  him  with  his  appro- 
bation ;  and  his  party  concurred  in  his  decision. 

Carte  now  entertained  the  idea  of  writing  a  History 
of  England  upon  principles  less  whiggish  than  those  of 
Rapin.  In.  April,  1738,  he  published  a  prospectus, 
explaining  his  plan,  and  soliciting  subscribers.  J3y 
October  he  had  £600  engaged  and  was  encouraged  to 


HIS   HISTORY   OF  ENGLAND.  325 

go  on  with  liis  collections  with  great  spirit.  When  the 
pretender  renewed  his  attempt  upon  England  in  1745, 
Carte  was  arrested,  suspected  of  allowing  his  old 
inclinations  to  have  implicated  him  in  the  rebellion. 
But  nothing  could  be  proved  against  him  and  he  was 
suffered  to  go  free.  This  imprisonment  added  to  his 
popularity.  The  city  of  London  subscribed  £50  to  his 
history,  and  the  company  of  goldsmiths  voted  £25  to 
aid  him  in  collecting  materials  for  the  work.  Propo- 
sals for  printing  were  issued  in  1746,  and  the  first 
volume,  coming  down  to  the  death  of  King  John,  was 
published  in  1747.  Great  expectations  had  been 
formed  of  his  work,  and  it  seemed  as  if  they  were  now 
to  be  realized.  But  a  single  incident  checked  this 
growing  prosperity.  In  a  note  to  the  history  the  zea- 
lous Jacobite  had  introduced  the  story  of  one  Lovel 
who  had  been  touched  for  the  king's  evil  and  healed 
by  the  pretender  at  Avignon  in  1716.  This  story, 
which  was  intended  to  point  out  Charles  James  as  the 
true  and  rightful  inheritor  of  the  throne,  was  met  by 
general  ridicule  at  London,  and  was  afterwards  proved 
to  be  false.  Lovel,  it  seems,  died  of  the  complaint, 
as  even  Carte,  at  length,  reluctantly  allowed. 

The  unlucky  Jacobite  found,  too,  that  his  history,  of 
which  so  great  anticipations  were  lately  entertained, 
was  now  sinking  into  neglect.  The  corporation  of 
London,  alarmed  at  the  incident  of  Lovel,  withdrew  its 
subscription.  And  timid  citizens,  on  all  sides,  shrank 
from  the  dangerous  publication.  But  notwithstanding 


326  CAKTE'S  HABITS  AND  CHARACTER. 

this  change  in  his  prospects,  Carte  continued  to  prose- 
cute his  labors  unmoved.  A  second  volume  appeared 
in  1750 ;  a  third  in  1753 :  the  fourth,  which  was  to 
close  with  the  Restoration,  he  did  not  live  to  complete. 

His  work,  labored  and  conscientious,  shows,  however, 
the  prejudices  and  the  credulity  of  the  Jacobite.  His 
style  is  tedious,  the  method  confused,  and  it  has  little 
claim  to  the  attention  on  any  score  except  fidelity  of 
research  and  untiring  labor.  His  collection  of  papers 
upon  subjects  relating  to  English  history  was  so  vast  and 
so  imequalled  in  their  time  that  large  sums  were  paid 
to  his  heirs  by  students  of  history  for  the  privilege  of 
examining  them.  The  Earl  of  Hardwick  gave  £200, 
Mr.  Macpherson,  £300,  for  this  examination. 

Carte  possessed  a  strong  constitution,  capable  of 
incessant  labor.  He  often  wrote  from  early  morning 
until  night,  taking  only  a  cup  of  tea  in  the  interval. 
Then  he  would  eat  heartily  and  enjoy  his  late  dinner. 
He  wras  gay  and  jovial,  careful  in  his  dress  and  appear- 
ance. In  his  writings  there  is  little  to  be  praised 
except  their  laborious  accuracy,  and  the  chief  value  of 
his  collections  and  history  consists  in  their  having 
prepared  the  way  for  the  more  gifted  Hume. 


WILLIAM  ROBERTSON. 

ALTHOUGH  Robertson  was  one  of  the  most  conspicuous 
men  of  his  time,  and  lived  through  the  greater  part  of 
the  last  century,  in  constant  intercourse  with  men  of 
letters,  yet  not  many  particulars  remain  of  his  life,  con- 
duct, and  peculiarities  of  disposition.  And  even  Lord 
Brougham,  who  has  lately  written  an  account  of  him, 
with  all  the  interest  of  a  near  relative  and  an  ardent 
admirer,  can  find  little  new  to  tell  of  the  habits  of  the 
historian.  He  can  add  but  few  particulars  to  the  meagre 
and  verbose  account  written  by  Dugald  Stewart.  Lord 
Brougham  gives  a  few  personal  reminiscences,  which 
are  less  interesting  in  themselves  than  for  the  -fact  that 
they  seem  to  link  us  with  the  past  and  bring  before  us, 
by  the  testimony  of  an  eye-witness,  some  of  the  peculiar- 
ities of  a  great  author,  contemporary  with  Hume, 
Johnson  and  Gibbon.  He  remembers  having  heard 
Robertson  preach  on  the  anniversary  of  the  Revolution, 
in  1788,  a  sermon  which,  even  to  his  young  faculties, 
seems  to  have  been  unusually  effective,  and  he  adds 
that  the  manuscript  of  this  sermon,  after  having  been 


328  .  HIS   LOVE   OF   FREEDOM. 

lost  for  nearly  half  a  century,  has  lately  been  discovered 
among  some  old  papers  and  has  fallen  into  his  hands. 
Robertson,  like  most  men  of  moderate  opinions,  had 
been  led  away  by  the  first  dawn  of  the  French  Revolu- 
tion, so  peaceful  and  apparently  full  of  hope,  to  receive 
it  as  the  birth  of  a  happier  era  and  the  signal  of  the 
liberation  of  oppressed  millions.  In  this  address,  cele- 
brating with  great  ardor  and  eloquence  a  similar  event 
in  English  history,  he  could  not  fail  to  direct  the 
attention  of  his  hearers  to  the  movement  that  was  just 
commencing  in  France ;  and  as  the  historian  was  always 
fond  of  looking  on  the  best  side  of  things,  his  mind 
expanded  with  hope,  and  all  his  feelings  and  his 
eloquence  warmed  at  the  prospect  of  dawning  freedom, 
and  hailed  it  as  the  opening  of  a  long  scene  of  happiness 
to  Europe.  This  sermon  Lord  Brougham  when  a  child 
heard,  and  he  relates  that  even  then  the  effect  of  the 
principal's  eloquence  was  perceptible  on  his  audience. 
One  of  Robertson's  sons,  who  was  not  a  regular  attend- 
ant at  his  father's  ministrations,  happened  on  that 
occasion  to  be  present.  "  If  you  would  always  preach 
such  sermons,"  said  he  to  his  father  on  his  return,  "  I 
should  be  a  much  more  frequent  listener."  A  reply 
which  seems  to  show  that  the  historian  was  sometimes, 
with  all  his  graceful  power  and  mellow  voice,  a  little 
dull. 

Of  Robertson's  personal  appearance,  Lord  Brougham 
remembers  little  except  that  he  was  above  the  middle 
size,  of  marked  features,  with  a  soft  expression  about 


HIS  APPEARANCE.  329 

his  mouth  of  continual  good  humor.  He  wore,  as  was 
usual,  a  cocked  hat  and  walked  with  a  stately  gait.  In 
the  autumn  he  was  fond  of  going  down  to  the  southern 
border  to  pass  a  few  weeks  with  his  son-in-law,  Mr. 
Brydone,  the  traveller,  at  his  seat  at  Lenners.  There  he 
was  totally  unconstrained,  and  there  seems  to  have  been 
an  agreement  between  himself  and  his  host  that  both 
should  do  as  they  pleased  without  regarding  the  other. 
In  the  morning  Robertson  liked  to  be  left  entirely  to 
himself;  he  then  either  studied,  walked  out,  or  drove 
about  the  country.  His  chief  amusement  was  reading, 
and  he  seems  never  to  have  given  up  study  wholly, 
even  in  moments  of  recreation.  It  was  his  chief  plea- 
sure to  acquire  knowledge. 

Such  is  all  the  information  Lord  Brougham  is  able  to 
give  us  of  his  relative.  Robertson's  letters  add  little ; 
and.  unhappily,  there  was  no  Edinburgh  Boswell  who 
took  down  each  sentence  as  it  fell  from  the  lips  of  its 
learned  men,  and  produced  as  clear  a  picture  of  Robert- 
son, Hume  and  Blair,  as  we  have  of  Johnson  and  his 
literary  circle.  It  is  a  thing  greatly  to  be  regretted, 
since  they  would  all,  no  doubt,  have  improved  upon  a 
closer  acquaintance.  Good  humor,  liberality,  a  mutual 
toleration,  and  a  common  affection  and  friendship  seems 
to  have  characterized  all  these  gifted  men ;  and  while 
the  rough  although  benevolent  Johnson  taught  to  his 
disciples  a  rigid  bigotry,  a  violence  in  argument  and  a 
rude  and  insolent  expression,  the  followers  of  Hume 
were  marked  by  the  reverse  of  all  those  qualities.  In 


330  WANT   OF  MATERIALS. 

the  Poker  Club  and,  in  their  general  meetings,  men  of 
the  most  diverse  feelings  and  principles  met  cordially 
and  united  in  the  closest  friendship ;  and  it  was  a 
common  sight,  in  the  streets  of  Edinburgh,  to  see  the 
pure  Blair  and  Eobertson,  the  leader  of  the  Scottish 
church,  joking  amicably  with  the  notorious  free-thinker, 
David  Hume,  and  the  suspected  Adam  Smith.  Gentle- 
ness of  disposition,  united  with  a  philosophic  turn  of 
mind,  taught  them  that  they  could  best  improve  and 
benefit  each  other  by  avoiding  violence  in  debate  and 
all  unkind  allusions  in  conversation. 

To  the  received  account  therefore  of  Principal  Robert- 
son, in  this  deficiency  of  material,  I  can  hope  to  add 
little;  but  the  life  of  a  scholar,  although  usually  un- 
varied by  any  remarkable  events,  is  seldom  uninterest- 
ing. The  author  is  the  personal  friend  of  his  readers, 
and  we  follow  his  career  with  all  the  attention  that  we 
pay  to  one  whom  we  have  loved  and  honored.  If  there 
be  nothing  more  than  the  history  of  his  writings — and 
little  more  is  left  of  our  author,  we  still  watch  with 
interest  the  first  conception  of  his  grand  designs;  the 
labor  through  which  he  passes,  in  order  to  perfect  them ; 
the  anxiety  with  which  lie  awaits  the  decision  of  the 
public  in  regard  to  his  future  fate  ;  and  the  various  his- 
tory of  each  individual  work;  its  opponents  and  its 
admirers;  its  faults  and  its  beauties;  the  degree  of 
attention  which  it  received  from  the  public,  and  the 
final  destiny  which  is  awaiting  it  in  the  future. 

Robertson's  father  was  a  respectable  clergyman  in 


HIS   FATHER.  331 

the  Scottish  kirk,  who  was  for  several  years  minister  of 
the  Scotch  church,  in  London  "Wall.  Removing  from 
hence  to  the  parish  of  Borthwick,  in  the  county  of  Edin- 
burgh, he  married  a  Miss  Pitcairn ;  and,  on  September 
19th,  1721,  our  author  was  born.  The  father  after- 
wards removed  to  Grey  Friars'  church,  Edinburgh, 
where  he  remained  until  he  died.  He  is  said  to  have 
been  a  man  of  considerable  talent,  eloquent,  of  pure 
taste  in  literature,  and  of  a  calm  and  easy  temper,  in  all 
these  respects  greatly  resembling  his  son.  He  had  besides 
a  taste  for  drawing,  and  several  of  his  productions,  said  to 
be  of  some  merit,  are  preserved  by  the  historian's 
family.  Besides  this  taste,  he  was  also  fond  of  poetry, 
and  wrote  verses  with  considerable  purity  and  melody 
— probably  after  the  manner  of  Pope.  Upon  many 
points  of  conduct  his  views  were  unusually  rigid ;  and 
he  exacted  from  his  son  a  promise  that  he  should  never 
enter  a  play-house  ;  the  abhorrence  for  those  scenes 
of  dissipation  being  peculiarly  strong  among  the  old 
covenanters.  Robertson,  having  given  this  pledge, 
never  in  the  slightest  degree  violated  it,  although  he  had 
none  of  that  abhorrence  for  plays  and  acting  which 
marked  the  more  rigid  members  of  the  kirk.  Even 
when  his  friend  Hume's  tragedy  of  Douglas  was  acted, 
and  when  many  of  his  clerical  friends  ventured  within  the 
walls  of  the  theatre,  Robertson  was  never  tempted  to  for- 
get his  promise.  And  afterwards,  in  London,  although 
allured  by  the  fame  of  his  friend  Garrick,  and  counten- 
anced by  the  example  of  the  highest  dignitaries  of  the 


332  THE   HABITS   OF  HIS   YOUTH. 

church,  he  still  continued  resolute.  Garrick,  respecting 
his  decision,  in  order  to  give  him  some  idea  of  the  effect 
of  spoken  tragedy  and  comedy,  read  for  him  some  of  his 
best  parts  in  private, — his  nearest  acquaintance  with 
the  theatre. 

Yet  was  his  father  by  no  means  severe,  sour,  or  exact- 
ing. He  was  on  the  contrary  of  a  mild  temper,  fond  of 
cheerful  amusement,  and  of  a  composed  and  hopeful 
turn  of  mind.  His  wife  was  a  woman  of  much  ability 
and  energy,  but  more  severe  and  less  amiable.  It  is 
said,  that  the  historian  inherited  something  of  the  dis- 
position of  each  parent ;  that  he  possessed  his  mother's 
energy  and  strength  of  will,  softened  by  his  father's 
mildness  and  cheerfulness  of  temper. 

He  was  the  eldest  of  eight  children — six  daughters 
and  two  sons ;  and,  having  been  early  sent  to  school, 
entered  the  University  of  Edinburgh  at  twelve  years  of 
age.  From  his  childhood  he  was  always  fond  of  study ; 
he  had  laid  down  regular  rules  for  the  employment  of  his 
time,  and  was  calm,  methodical  and  industrious.  At 
fourteen  he  even  began  to  fill  his  common-place  book 
with  whatever  he  read ;  his  motto  always  having  been — • 
"vita  sine  litteris  mors."  This  was  written  upon  his 
first  common-place  book,  and  seems  to  have  been  the 
ruling  principle  of  his  life.  He  was  fond  of  the  classics, 
and  thought  there  was  no  better  way  of  improving  the 
style  than  by  frequently  translating  from  those  authors. 
When  about  twenty,  he  had  gone  so  far  as  to  plan,  and 
partly  to  execute,  a  translation  of  Marcus  Antoninus,  his 


333 

favorite  author ;  but  the  appearance  of  a  rival  transla- 
tion prevented  him  from  completing  it.  The  portions 
which  have  been  preserved  show  no  marks  of  unusual 
merit,  either  in  style  or  matter,  and  it  is  no  source  of 
regret  that  he  was  unable,  at  so  immature  an  age,  to 
pursue  his  intended  work. 

Robertson's  character  seems  early  to  have  been 
formed,  and  to  have  partaken  of  the  method  and 
regularity  of  his  studies.  He  was  a  stoic  by  nature, 
not  less  than  by  a  careful  study  of  Marcus  Antoninus. 
He  never  allowed  himself  to  be  transported  by  passion, 
and  probably  had  none  of  those  violent  impulses  that 
embarrass  the  lives  of  most  men.  His  temper  was  mild, 
his  disposition  not  excitable ;  he  was  firm  in  his  opinions, 
and  was  marked  by  uncommon  prudence  in  his  treat- 
ment of  the  opinions  of  others.  He  was  learned,  wise, 
well  read,  and  capable  on  all  occasions,  from  his  per- 
fect composure  and  firmness,  to  make  his  superiority 
felt  among  his  companions.  His  youth  had  been  dis- 
turbed by  none  of  those  vices  or  follies  which  others 
around  him  had  fallen  into :  he  had  never,  like  Gold- 
smith or  Johnson,  fallen  into  debt ;  mingled  with  de- 
praved associates,  or  discovered  by  experience  the  follies 
of  mankind  ;  and  he  had  little  to  regret  in  the  past,  and 
every  thing  to  hope  in  the  future. 

Such  a  nature,  combined  with  remarkable  intellectual 
gifts,  could  not  fail  to  have  led  Robertson  to  distinction 
in  whatever  path  he  had  chosen  to  have  pursued  it. 
As  a  lawyer  he  must  have  risen  to  the  bench  or  become 
as  renowned  as  Wedderburn  or  Erskine.  But  he  chose 


334  HE  IS   LICENSED   TO   PREACH. 

the  church,  as  the  profession  which  his  father  had  fol- 
lowed and  which  was  best  suited  to  his  own  taste  and 
the  character  of  his  pursuits.  Even  at  this  early  age 
Kobertson  had  already  begun  to  cherish  literary  hopes, 
and  was  looking  about  for  some  subject  suited  to  his 
peculiar  abilities.  He  was  already  purifying  his  style 
by  a  diligent  study  of  Swift,  and  regulating  his  course 
of  study  by  following  the  rules  of  Marcus  Antoninus. 
And  he  no  doubt  felt  that  the  quiet  of  a  country  parish 
would  best  enable  him  to  pursue  his  favorite  scheme. 

In  1741  he  was  licensed  to  preach,  and  two  years 
afterwards,  at  the  age  of  twenty-two,  became  minister 
of  Gladsmuir,  a  country  parish  in  East  Lothian.  Not 
long  after  his  settlement  his  parents  both  died  suddenly 
within  a  short  time  of  each  other,  leaving  their  large 
family  of  seven  children,  all  younger  than  Robertson, 
with  little  or  no  support,  except  the  aid  of  the  eldest 
son.  "With  generous  decision,  Robertson,  in  this  emerg- 
ency, resolved  to  give  up  all  his  own  plans  in  order  to 
provide  a  home  for  his  brother  and  his  sisters ;  he  re- 
solved to  abandon  all  prospect  of  marriage  until  they 
should  be  provided  for,  and  to  devote  all  his  income  to 
their  support.  For  eight  years  he  remained  single,  his 
house  being  presided  over  by  his  eldest  sister,  a  person 
said  to  have  been  beautiful,  amiable  and  self-sacrificing. 
In  1750,  however,  she  married,  leaving  Robertson  to 
follow  her  example,  which  he  did  the  next  year  by 
marrying  his  cousin,  Miss  Nesbit,  a  connection  from 
which  he  derived  lasting  happiness. 

During  the  fifteen  years  he  continued  to  live  at 


HIS    STKONG   AND   ACTIVE   CONSTITUTION.  335 

nrair  liis  life  was  marked  by  the  same  regularity  and 
purity  which  had  been  apparent  in  his  youth ;  he  was 
in  the  habit  of  rising  very  early,  in  order  to  give  the 
whole  morning  to  his  books ;  while  later  in  the  day  he 
visited  the  poor  and  sick,  always  a  welcome  visitor, 
because  he  always  carried  with  him  cheerfulness  and 
hope.  But  although  devoted  to  study,  he  was  also  fond 
of  more  active  exercise,  riding,  walking,  and  physical 
labor.  His  constitution  seems  always  to  have  been 
strong ;  and,  as  he  was  free  from  all  excesses  and  im- 
prudence, his  frame  was  capable  of  enduring  exertion, 
and  was  not  easily  wearied.  "When  the  rebellion  of 
1745  broke  out,  and  the  safety  of  the  country  and  the 
government  called  for  the  aid  of  all  its  supporters, 
Robertson,  although  a  non-combatant,  immediately  left 
his  study  and  his  manse  to  join  the  volunteers  who  were 
collected  in  defence  of  the  capital.  He  did  not  think 
that  either  his  profession  or  his  literary  taste  forbade 
him  to  take  arms  in  defence  of  his  country,  and  his 
strong  and  active  frame  seemed  well  fitted  for  the  dis- 
charge of  the  duties  of  a  volunteer.  There  was  probably 
no  more  able-bodied  or  willing  trooper  in  the  ranks 
than  was  the  sturdy  parson  from  Gladsmuir.  On  the 
surrender  of  the  capital,  Robertson,  not  satisfied  with 
his  experience  of  military  life,  once  more  offered  his 
services  to  the  royal  army  at  the  camp  of  Haddington. 

Another  field  of  activity,  however,  more  suited  to  his 
peculiar  taste  and  powers,  and  which  seems  to  have 
called  forth  all  his  zeal,  was  the  General  Assembly  of  the 


336       HE  ENTEES  THE  GENEEAL  ASSEMBLY. 

Scottish  Church.  Here  he  entered  as  a  delegate,  pro- 
bably one  of  the  least  distinguished  of  that  body,  yet 
soon  by  his  eloquence  and  industry  he  rose  to  be  its 
leader. 

He  had  always  practised  speaking,  from  a  very  early 
age,  being  probably  encouraged  in  this  taste  by  the 
example  of  his  father,  who  is  said  to  have  been  an 
excellent  speaker.  In  his  youth  he  joined  a  debating 
society,  which  met  weekly  for  the  purpose  of  discussion 
on  all  topics ;  and  which  afterwards  grew  into  a  more 
extended  society,  of  which  most  of  the  eminent  men  of 
Edinburgh  were  members.  Hume  and  Smith  belonged 
to  this  club ;  but  from  distrust  of  their  own  powers, 
never  joined  in  the  debates.  They  were  careful  of  their 
fame,  and  probably  unwilling  to  incur  the  chance  of  a 
failure  even  upon  so  narrow  a  field.  Wedderburn, 
afterwards  Chancellor  of  England,  Ferguson,  the  pro- 
fessor, Hume,  Lord  Kames,  together  with  Robertson, 
were  the  leading  and  active  members  of  the  society, 
which  did  much  to  keep  alive  their  mental  activity,  as 
well  as  to  perfect  them  in  the  art  of  speaking.  Eobert- 
son  gave  much  time  to  these  meetings,  was  always 
present,  and  led  in  debate  and  criticism. 

"When,  therefore,  he  entered  the  assembly,  although 
little  more  than  a  young  and  obscure  parish  minister, 
he  was  at  once  enabled  to  make  his  way  to  influence  by 
his  talents  as  a  writer  and  a  speaker.  His  prospects, 
however,  on  account  of  his  peculiar  opinions,  seemed  at 
first  very  unpromising.  Although  the  great  majority 


HIS   LIBERALITY.  337 

of  the  assembly  held  strictly  the  rules  of  the  ancient 
covenant,  and  were  marked  by  a  rigid  illiberality, 
Robertson  at  once  placed  himself  among  the  small 
minority  who  were  called  the  moderate  party.  The 
opposite  faction  held  all  the  extreme  dogmas  of  their 
sect ;  all  who  differed  from  them  in  opinion,  even  to  the 
slightest  degree,  they  looked  upon  with  abhorrence  as 
departing  from  the  old  standard  of  the  kirk.  They  held 
that  the  only  safety  of  the  nation  lay  in  persecuting 
Catholics  and  excommunicating  infidels ;  that  plays  were 
the  work  of  the  devil,  and  theatres  the  surest  road  to 
perdition.  All  improvement  in  art,  science,  or  litera- 
ture, they  looked  upon  with  distrust ;  and  theological  or 
metaphysical  speculations,  which  seemed  in  any  degree 
to  depart  from  the  principles  of  Calvin,  they  condemned 
as  heretical,  and  denounced  the  unlucky  authors  as 
infidels.  In  fine,  they  embodied  the  old  persecuting 
spirit  which  has  its  seat  in  almost  every  religious  sect, 
but  which  was  only  logically  defended  by  the  followers 
of  Calvin. 

To  all  these  illiberal  views  Robertson  was  opposed, 
both  by  nature  and  reason ;  his  mild  disposition  shrank 
from  the  use  of  violent  measures  in  enforcing  religious 
truth,  while  his  active  mind  sympathized  with  every 
effort  by  new  inquiry  to  penetrate  to  the  grounds  of 
human  knowledge.  He  was  himself  a  writer,  and  his 
mind  was  already  filled  with  the  love  of  all  that  was 
beautiful  in  art  and  literature ;  nor  could  he  see  as 
much  danger  to  religion  in  mental  inquiry  as  in  a  state 

15 


338  HE   GAINS   INFLUENCE. 

of  dull  and  sluggish  repose.  Robertson  was  also  a 
defender  of  lay  patronage,  or  the  system  which  pre- 
vailed in  the  Scottish  church,  by  which  the  pastor  of 
each  parish  was  selected  by  the  owner  of  the  living 
rather  than  by  the  people. 

In  these  opinions  he  found  himself,  at  first,  sustained 
by  few,  but  gradually  the  force  of  his  eloquence,  his 
amiable  manners,  and  his  clear  and  ready  argument 
began  to  win  him  influence  among  his  brother  clergymen 
such  as  no  other  man  possessed.  The  majority  came 
finally  over  to  his  side,  leaving  the  rigid  and  fanatic 
portions  of  the  kirk  to  maintain  themselves  in  contempt 
and  ridicule.  One  of  the  most  remarkable  occasions  in 
which  Robertson  showed  the  liberality  of  his  opinions, 
as  well  as  the  force  of  his  eloquence,  was  in  the  case  of 
his  friend,  Henry  Home. 

Home,  a  parish  minister  of  the  Scottish  kirk,  inclined 
from  early  youth  to  poetry,  and  anxious,  perhaps,  to 
escape  from  obscurity,  had  employed  himself  in  writing 
tragedies,  after  the  manner  of  Shakspeare.  Had  he 
concealed  this  taste,  or  only  published  his  plays,  he 
might,  probably,  have  escaped  the  extreme  censure  of 
of  his  brethren  of  the  kirk ;  but,  in  an  excess  of  impru- 
dence, Home  not  only  wrote  plays  and  admired 
Shakspeare,  but  even  prepared  one  for  the  stage.  This 
was  "the  Douglas"  a  production  which  gained  great 
reputation  in  its  own  day  and  at  once  elevated  the 
author  to  a  height  of  fame  which  he  never  could  have 
deserved.  It  has  since  chiefly  been  known  as  affording 


DEFENDS   HOME.  339 

a  favorite  piece  for  school-boy  declamation.  Home's 
play  was  acted  at  Edinburgh  to  crowded  houses,  with  a 
great  increase  of  fame  to  the  author ;  and,  to  add  to  the 
horror  of  the  stricter  brethren,  many  of  the  younger 
clergy  were  tempted  by  friendship  or  curiosity  to  attend 
its  exhibitions,  a  crime  such  as  had  never  before  been 
known  in  that  city  since  the  days  of  John  Knox. 

Such  an  offence,  aided  by  so  many  exciting  circum- 
stances, could  not  fail  to  arouse  all  the  zeal  and  vigor 
of  the  extremists.  They  summoned  Home  before  the 
Assembly  to  answer  for  his  offence,  and  at  the  saine 
time  resolved  to  punish  all  those  of  the  clergy  who  had 
ventured  within  the  theatre.  In  these  proceedings 
they,  no  doubt,  had  the  general  support  of  their  laity. 
In  our  own  day,  a  clergyman  who  should  write  a 
tragedy,  should  attend  rehearsals,  and  finally  produce 
it  on  the  stage,  would  be  thought  to  have  lost  in  a 
great  measure  his  clerical  character ;  and  should  several 
of  our  leading  divines  be  seen  in  the  boxes  of  a  theatre, 
the  popular  sympathy  would  not  be  in  their  favor, 
should  they  be  called  to  account  for  their  imprudence. 
But  in  Edinburgh,  a  century  ago,  such  offences  seemed 
almost"  inexpiable.  The  old  strictness  of  the  Puritan 
sect  still  flourished  in  all  its  rigor;  and  not  many  years 
ago  the  theatre  and  the  actor  had  been  forbidden  by 
law  as  things  to  be  shunned  and  abhorred.  In  this 
state  of  feeling,  it  was  an  act  of  unusual  rashness  in 
Home  and  his  friends  thus  to  outrage  public  sentiment ; 
and  they  might  well  look  forward  to  dismission  and 


34:0  THE  HISTORY   OF   SCOTLAND. 

disgrace  when  their  trial  came  on  in  the  General 
Assembly. 

Their  only  friend,  of  any  influence,  and  upon  whom 
they  could  build  their  hope,  was  Robertson,  now  a 
leading  member,  and  capable  of  controlling  many  votes. 
It  does  not  appear  that  Robertson  approved  of  the  con- 
duct of  the  accused,  although  he  willingly  took  up 
their  defence.  He  acted,  however,  the  part  of  a  friend 
rather  than  that  of  a  judge;  and,  by  his  voice,  his  pen, 
and  his  personal  exertions,  endeavored  to  save  them 
from  punishment.  His  exertions  were,  to  a  certain 
extent,  successful.  Home  at  length  resigned  his  office 
rather  than  continue  the  struggle ;  allured  too,  perhaps, 
by  brighter  prospects  in  England.  But  Robertson  suc- 
ceeded in  saving  the  other  accused  from  any  other 
punishment  than  a  censure  and  a  temporary  suspension. 

From  1742  to  1758,  a  period  of  sixteen  years,  Robert- 
son had  been  engaged  upon  his  "  History  of  Scotland." 
It  appeared  in  1759.  His  peculiar  course  of  study,  as 
well  as  the  nature  of  his  mind,  fitted  him  admirably 
for  the  composition  of  this  work.  From  an  early  period 
of  life  he  had  been  diligently  refining  his  style,  taking 
for  his  models  the  plain  and  simple  diction  of  Swift  and 
De  Foe.  He  had  carefully  freed  himself  from  all  Scot- 
ticisms by  a  familiarity  with  the  best  English  writers, 
and  had  acquired  an  easy  and  harmonious  flow  of  lan- 
guage, fitted  at  once  to  engage  the  attention  and  gratify 
the  taste.  His  learning  was  sufficient  at  least  for  the 
theme  he  had  chosen ;  he  had  read  many  books  with 


HE   GOES   TO   LONDON.  341 

profit ;  and  lie  was  capable  of  regular  labor  and  untiring 
industry. 

His  subject,  too,  was  one  of  remarkable  interest.  The 
history  of  Scotland  had  not  yet  been  written ;  and  it 
came  therefore  upon  his  readers  with  all  the  charm  of 
novelty,  besides  appealing  to  the  warmest  feelings  of 
of  their  nature.  The  Scots  have  ever  been  famous  for 
their  love  of  country;  and  the  historian,  in  his  clear 
periods,  and  graceful  narrative,  led  back  the  minds  of 
his  countrymen  to  the  interesting  and  troubled  annals 
of  their  native  land.  At  home  his  work  could  not  fail 
to  be  successful;  while,  in  England,  he  carefully  took 
measures  to  make  himself  friends  among  the  critics, 
before  he  ventured  to  publish. 

In  1Y59,  he  went  up  to  London,  to  settle  with  some 
publisher,  as  well  as  to  endeavor  to  prepare  the  public 
for  a  kind  reception  of  his  book.  He  was  provided 
with  letters  to  various  persons  of  eminence,  and  besides 
his  friend  Home  was  now  tutor  to  the  son  of  the  Earl  of 
Bute  ;  Scott,  another  friend,  was  in  the  same  office  with 
the  Prince  of  Wales ;  and  "Wedderburn  was  already, 
though  so  young,  a  prominent  speaker  in  the  House. 

He  was  some  time  in  the  capital,  before  he  came  to 
any  agreement  with  the  bookseller,  and  the  interval  he 
employed  in  endeavoring  to  excite  attention  to  the  sub- 
ject of  his  work.  •  He  writes  back  to  his  friends  in 
Edinburgh  that  part  of  his  manuscript  was  in  the  hands 
of  Horace  "Walpole,  the  prime  minister's  son ;  another 
portion  he  had  given  to  the  Duke  of  Argyle;  Lord 


34:2  HIS   RECEPTION. 

Boyston  had  a  third ;  and  Mr.  Scott,  the  tutor  to  the 
Prince  of  Wales,  was  supplied  with  the  remainder,  to 
be  read  no  doubt  to  his  royal  pupil.  Horace  "Walpole, 
he  relates,  was  already  interested  in  Queen  Mary,  and 
was  delighted  with  his  subject. 

As  a  conspicuous  minister  of  the  Scottish  church, 
Robertson  had  facilities  for  gaining  fame,  which  had 
been  denied  to  the  less  fortunate  Hume ;  even  before  his 
publication  he  was  received  with  politeness  by  many 
men  eminent  in  letters  and  politics ;  and  was  person- 
ally highly  popular.  Poor  Hume,  on  the  contrary,  on 
the  eve  of  publishing  his  first  volume,  had  been  an 
object  of  dislike,  and  even  contempt,  to  the  London 
critics.  "When  he  visited  the  capital,  to  get  out  his 
work,  he  knew  but  one  Mr.  Bourke  or  Burke,  of  all  its 
distinguished  coteries;  and  even  Mallet  looked  with 
contempt  upon  the  poor  Scotch  author,  who  was  en- 
deavoring to  force  himself  on  the  attention  of  the  Eng- 
lish public.  But  far  different  was  it  with  Eobertson, 
who  now  found  the  road  to  fame  easy,  and  who  was 
encouraged  on  all  sides  by  approving  advice  from  the 
highest  sources.  He  dined  out;  saw  all  the  eminent 
men  of  the  time,  was  nattered  by  their  attentions ;  and, 
but  for  his  composure  and  prudence,  might  have  suf- 
fered more  from  his  prosperity  than  Hume  had  done 
from  adversity. 

His  friends  advised  him  to  add  to  his  work  a  large 
body  of  notes,  containing  original  documents,  letters, 
journals,  and  various  new  matter ;  a  feature  which,  he 


SELLS   HIS   COPYRIGHT.  34:3 

was  told,  would  please  the  taste  of  the  town  although  it 
doubled  the  price  and  size  of  his  work.  In  fact  the 
whole  history  was  very  brief,  comprising  not  more  than 
eight  or  nine  hundred  pages  octavo,  and  treating  of  all 
its  subjects,  except  the  life  of  Queen  Mary,  in  the  most 
concise  manner. 

The  book-sellers,  led  away  by  the  general  enthusiasm 
in  his  favor,  made  him  offers  for  the  copyright  which, 
in  that  day,  were  thought  unusually  large.  There 
seems  even  to  have  been  a  competition  among  them  to 
secure  a  work  which  was  evidently  destined  to  become 
highly  popular,  and  of  which,  even  in  advance  of  its 
publication,  the  best  critics. spoke  in  the  highest  praise. 
Eobertson  met  with  none  of  those  difficulties  which 
usually  embarrass  the  historical  writer,  who,  unknown 
to  fame,  prepares  to  publish  his  first  work.  And  while 
but  small  expectations  were  formed  of  the  Decline  and 
Fall,  and  the  History  of  the  Stuarts,  had  been  almost 
neglected  in  London,  on  its  first  appearance,  the 
History  of  Scotland  was  winning  fame  for  its  author 
some  months  before  it  appeared  in  print. 

Robertson  writes  to  Jardine,  just  before  that  event, 
that  he  was  writing  from  the  British  Coffee  House  in 
the  midst  of  a  company  who  were  playing  at  cards 
and  drinking  claret ;  and  he  seems  to  have  enjoyed  the 
spectacle  of  the  gaiety  of  the  metropolis  although  he 
still  preserved  his  own  moderation  and  abstinence. 
He  tells  Jardine  that  he  had  just  agreed  with  his  book- 
seller, Andrew  Miller,  for  £600,  the  sum  he  had 


344  THE   HISTOKY    COMES   OUT. 

originally  fixed  upon  for  the  copyright ;  but  that  all 
the  book-sellers  were  astonished  at  the  greatness  of  the 
sum.  With  something  of  the  vanity  of  an  author,  he 
adds  that  he  has  all  the  best  puffers  in  England  on  his 
side,  Doddington,  Walpole,  Lady  Hervey,  and  the 
speaker,  and  that  Mary  had  become  a  subject  of  con- 
versation in  all  the  best  circles  of  the  town.  He  had 
dined,  too,  with  Garrick,  and  had  visited  Admiral 
Hawke  on  the  Royal  George. 

When,  therefore,  the  history  finally  came  out, 
attended  by  all  those  favorable  omens,  and  so  free  from 
every  trait  that  could  possibly  offend  the  prejudices  of 
any  class  of  readers,  it  rose  at  once  to  a  height  of 
renown,  such  as  no  book  of  the  time  had  attained. 
The  critics  were  astonished  at  the  purity  of  its  lan- 
guage, so  free  from  Scotticisms,  that  they  asserted  that 
the  author  must  have  studied  at  Oxford.  Hume,  who 
was  in  London  at  the  time,  wrote  with  real  pleasure  to 
Robertson,  that  his  work  was  everywhere  praised. 
Lord  Lyttleton  was  delighted  that  so  fine  a  production 
should  come  from  a  Christian,  and  spoke  of  it  with 
such  enthusiastic  pleasure  that  Hume  said  he  consi- 
dered Dr.  Robertson  the  best  writer  that  had  arisen 
since  St.  Paul.  Chesterfield,  Grenville,  and  Garrick, 
clergy  and  laity,  and  all  the,  members  of  the  royal 
family,  to  the  king  himself,  united  in  the  general 
laudation.  And  even  Horace  Walpole,  who  secretly 
never  enjoyed  any  writings  but  his  own,  lavished  his 
praises  on  the  History  of  Scotland.  By  one  happy 


345 

effort  Robertson  had  at  once  arisen  to  the  head  of  the 
historians  of  his  time,  and  all  those  who  disliked  the 
opinions  and  character  of  Hume,  now  availed  them- 
selves of  this  opportunity  of  depreciating  the  dange- 
rous skeptic  by  praising  his  orthodox  rival. 

Notwithstanding  this  apparent  opposition,  however, 
the  two  historical  writers  remained  fast  friends,  Hume 
doing  all  in  his  power  to  spread  the  fame  of  the  history, 
lie  not  only  recommended  it  in  London  to  all  his 
acquaintances,  but  wrote  over  to  Paris  to  those  that  he 
knew  there,  extolling  it  with  great  ardor,  and  urging 
that  a  translation  be  at  once  made  in  order  to  show  the 
Parisian  critics  of  what  his  Edinburgh  literati  were 
capable.  His  generous  approval  was  of  signal  use  to 
Robertson,  and  no  man  did  more  in  giving  popularity 
to  the  book.  ]STor  was  Robertson,  in  the  moment  of  his 
fame,  forgetful  of  his  less  popular  rival,  and  he  con- 
tinued ever  after,  through  all  his  exaltation,  to  shield 
Hume  from  the  mortifications  to  which  his  unpopular 
principles  exposed  him,  and  to  cultivate  his  society  as 
one  of  his  chief  pleasures.  "  I  regard  the  friendship  of 
Mr.  Hume,"  he  wrote,  in  his  old  age,  to  Gibbon,  "  as 
one  of  the  happiest  circumstances  of  my  life." 

A  short  time  before  the  publication  of  the  history, 
Robertson  had  been  presented  to  his  father's  charge,  the 
Old  Grey  Friars,  at  Edinburgh.  When  his  wide  literary 
fame  was  added  to  his  other  recommendations,  he  rose 
rapidly  in  the  church  and  received  various  high  appoint- 
ments. In  1759,  he  was  made  chaplain  royal,  a  station 

15* 


346 


which,  since  the  formation  of  the  Scottish  kirk,  had 
become  a  sinecure.  A  few  years  after,  in  1762,  as  soon 
as  the  vacancy  occurred,  he  was  made  principal  of  the 
University  of  Edinburgh,  the  most  dignified  literary 
position  which  his  country  had  to  bestow.  And  as  he 
was  also  moderator  of  the  general  assembly,  he  held  a 
governing  influence  in  the  church  and  the  educational 
system  of  Scotland.  His  moderate  views  being  adopted 
by  the  ruling  party  in  the  church  gave  considerable 
impulse  to  the  Scottish  intellect,  now  set  free  from  the 
fear  of  encountering  the  violence  of  the  fanatical  leaders, 
and  his  liberal  opinions  in  politics  softened  the  harshness 
of  Jacobitism,  and  tended  to  allay  those  bitter  feelings 
against  England,  which  had  long  prevailed  among  a 
large  party  in  Scotland. 

It  was,  no  doubt,  a  sense  of  the  good  effect  of  Robert- 
son's  political  moderation,  not  less  than  his  literary 
fame,  that  made  him  so  marked  a  favorite  with  the  king 
and  the  whole  royal  family.  The  king,  it  seems,  was 
desirous  that  Robertson  should  undertake  the  history  of 
England  and  should  compose  a  narrative  more  favorable 
to  the  rights  of  the  House  of  Hannover  than  that  of 
Hume  was  supposed  to  be.  It  would  also  be  free  from 
the  irreligious  tone  of  the  latter,  and  more  fit  on  that 
account  for  the  use  of  the  royal  family.  Lord  Bute, 
who  was  at  that  time  the  ruling  favorite,  united  with 
the  king  in  urging  Robertson  to  write  this  work ;  he 
renewed  for  him  the  post  of  royal  historiographer  of 
Scotland,  with  a  salary  of  £300,  and  offered  the  historian 


THE   KING   PROPOSES   TO   HIM    A   SUBJECT.  347 

every  advantage  which  his  powerful  aid  could  afford, 
in  collecting  materials  and  securing  the  success  of  the 
work. 

This  was,  no  doubt,  a  tempting  offer  to  Robertson, 
and  one  that  must  for  the  moment  have  aroused  his 
ambition  and  interest.  His  only  rival  in  the  field  of 
English  history  would  be  his  friend,  Hume,  whose 
unpopular  principles  had  already  exposed  him  to  the 
most  unfavorable  criticism.  Few  in  that  period  seemed 
to  perceive  the  unusual  excellence  of  Hume's  produc- 
tion, and  it  was  common  to  speak  of  it  as  partial,  false, 
full  of  Scotticisms,  and  unfit  to  be  put  in  the  hands  of 
the  young.  It  was  plain,  therefore,  that  Robertson  had 
every  advantage  over  his  only  rival,  and  that  his  work, 
sustained  by  royal  and  court  influence,  by  the  whole 
circle  of  critics,  and  by  the  charms  of  his  style  and 
method,  would  rise  at  once  to  be  considered  the  only 
faithful  and  valuable  history  of  England.  He  seems, 
in  fact,  for  a  time  to  have  inclined  to  follow  the  royal 
suggestion  and  to  devote  the  remainder  of  his  life  to  a 
work  of  that  nature. 

But  upon  reflecting  upon  the  subject,  various  objec- 
tions rose  in  his  mind.  He  felt  that  Hume  must  neces- 
sarily consider  such  a  work  an  intrusion  on  his  peculiar 
field,  and  that  friendship  demanded  that  some  regard 
should  be  paid  to  his  feelings.  This  objection,  however, 
he  seems  to  have  met  by  urging  that  Hume's  work  had 
long  been  before  the  public,  and  had  gained  a  position 
which  could  not  be  shaken  by  any  effort  of  his  own. 


348  HE   WAS    NOT   WELL    FITTED   FOE   THE   TASK. 

And  lie  thought,  too,  that  from  their  different  mode  of 
viewing  the  subject,  the  two  works  would  rather  throw 
light  upon  each  other  than  come  into  open  competition. 
While  he  was  reflecting  upon  the  project,  however, 
Lord  Bute  resigned,  and  he  thus  lost  one  of  his  most 
zealous  friends  in  office.  He  heard,  too,  that  Hume 
felt  displeased  at  his  design,  thinking  that  it  was  no 
friendly  act  to  attempt  to  wrest  from  him  the  place  of 
historian  of  England,  and  Eo"bertson  kindly  dropped  all 
thoughts  of  the  matter. 

It  is  probable,  also,  that  he  was  conscious  that  he 
wanted  many  of  the  qualities  necessary  for  the  per- 
formance of  such  a  labor,  and  that  as  he  examined  the 
subject  more  closely,  he  found  that  he  could  hardly 
hope  to  give  interest  to  so  long  a  work,  supported  only 
by  his  pure  but  artificial  style,  and  his  happy  skill  in 
painting  an  interesting  character.  There  is  little  doubt 
that  had  he  attempted  to  write  the  history  he  would 
have  failed  wholly  in  giving  it  a  lasting  value.  Tem- 
porary applause  he  must  have  gained,  because  that  was 
prepared  for  him  beforehand.  He  would  have  shocked 
no  prejudices,  he  would  have  wounded  no  cherished 
convictions,  nor  would  he  have  ventured  upon  any 
dangerous  speculations  in  religion  or  politics.  He 
would  have  pleased  dissenter  and  churchman,  liberal 
and  tory,  prelate  and  Puritan.  But  he  would  have 
wanted  all  those  excellences  which  have  given  a  perpe- 
tual interest  to  Hume's  unequalled  work.  Philosophy, 
depth  of  insight  into  peculiar  characters,  and  the  power 


HISTORY    OJF    CHAELES    V.  349 

of  fixing  the  attention  to  a  long  train  of  reasoning, 
hidden  beneath  an  engaging  narrative,  were  qualities 
that  Robertson  never  possessed  ;  nor  conld  he  have 
rivalled  that  pure  and  artless  style,  that  melodious 
flow  of  language,  and  those  sweet  and  gracious  pic- 
tures with  which  Hume  has  at  intervals  interspersed 
his  history.  Happily  for  his  fame  he  selected  a  subject 
more  suited  to  his  taste  and  powers. 

This  was  the  history  of  Charles  Y.  After  looking 
round  for  an  interesting  subject  in  modern  history,  and 
having  consulted  Hume  as  to  what  he  would  advise 
him  to  choose,  he  finally,  notwithstanding  the  advice  of 
his  friend,  who  recommended  him  to  compose  a  series 
of  biographies,  had  fixed  upon  that  era,  as  one  likely 
to  be  of  interest.  For  nearly  ten  years  after  the 
publication  of  his  first  work,  Robertson  was  closely 
engaged  upon  the  history  of  Charles,  and  as  it  was  a 
work  requiring  a  wide  range  of  reading  and  a  general 
knowledge  of  the  affairs  both  of  Europe  and  America 
at  that  period,  the  time  does  not  seem  long. 

The  subject  was  one  that  seemed  suited  to  his  peculiar 
powers ;  the  life  of  Charles  embraced  within  its  limits 
vicissitudes  such  as  might  well  employ  all  the  skill  of 
the  historical  painter,  and  call  forth  all  that  power  of 
touching  the  feelings,  and  the  fancy  which  Robertson 
certainly  possessed ;  and  he  could  hardly  fail  to  make 
an  instructive  as  well  as  entertaining  work  out  of  the 
various  materials  which  his  subject  presented  :  the  rise 
of  the  Reformation;  the  wars  with  France  and  the 


350  IT   APPEARS    IN    1769. 

German  league  ;  and  the  final  abdication  of  tlie  famous 
monarch  amid  all  his  power  and  magnificence,  dissatis- 
fied with  the  world  and  hopeless  of  present  enjoyment. 
Robertson  was  always  skillful  in  the  choice  of  his 
subjects,  and  they  were  always  not  only  interesting  but 
new. 

This  history  appeared  in  1769,  with  a  dedication  to 
the  king,  who  had  probably  been  educated  into  an 
admiration  of  the  historian,  and  had  learned  to  prefer 
his  rounded  period  and  clear  style  to  that  of  any  other 
author.  The  work  was  received  with  general  admi- 
ration ;  the  fame  of  the  author  could  not  indeed  have 
been  much  raised  above  the  early  laudations  of  his 
critics ;  but  he  now  seemed  to  have  proved  that  they 
had  not  been  mistaken  in  their  opinion  of  his  powers. 
The  history  of  Charles  Y.  was  believed  to  be  the  finest 
work  of  the  age;  its  learning  seemed  vast,  its  style 
perfect,  its  subject  the  most  interesting  and  instructive 
that  could  be  imagined ;  nor  was  it  necessary  for  the 
historian  to  write  anything  more  in  order  to  insure  the 
perpetuity  of  his  fame. 

It  is  not  to  be  supposed,  however,  that  Eobertson 
escaped  the  usual  fate  of  eminent  authors,  or  that  his 
work  aroused  no  unfavorable  criticism.  A  portion  of 
the  Jacobite  party,  offended  by  the  manner  in  which 
he  had  treated  their  idol  queen,  Mary,  attacked  his 
history  of  Scotland  with  vigor  and  considerable  learning, 
Whitaker  and  Tytler,  the  two  most  learned  of  his 
opponents,  labored  to  show  that  he  was  inaccurate  an.d 


GILBERT   STUART.  351 

I  »artial.  Even  with  Mr.  Hume  he  had  some  differences 
on  this  subject ;  Hume  inclining  to  a  still  less  favorable 
construction  of  Mary's  actions  than  his  friend,  but 
fortunately  their  controversies  never  went  beyond  a 
playful  badinage  and  a  few  pleasant  rejoinders.  The 
most  bitter  and  violent  of  Robertson's  critics,  however, 
was  Gilbert  Stuart,  a  man  of  remarkable  and  active 
intellect,  who,  at  the  early  age  of  twenty-one,  had 
written  a  valuable  work  on  the  constitutional  history 
of  Scotland.  The  style  of  this  writer  was  clear,  his 
reasoning  strong,  and  his  learning  often  deep  and  labor- 
ious. Unfortunately,  however,  he  had  early  yielded  to 
excesses  and  dissipation,  and  all  his  promising  genius 
was  thus  lost  to  himself  and  his  country. 

Stuart,  notwithstanding  his  constant  intemperance, 
had  offered  himself  as  a  candidate  for  a  professorship  in 
the  University,  and  when  he  failed  attributed  his  ill- 
success  to  the  unfriendly  interference  of  the  principal. 
He  at  once  resolved  to  revenge  himself  by  attacking  the 
works  of  his  supposed  enemy ;  and  in  various  reviews 
and  other  publications  he  never  ceased  to  disparage  the 
good  faith  and  accuracy  of  Robertson.  So  learned  and 
acute  a  critic,  he  did  not  fail  often  to  fix  upon  points  in 
which  the  historian  had,  in  fact,  laid  himself  open  to 
attack,  and  many  of  his  strictures  are  both  just  and 
unanswerable.  This  constant  hostility  and  abuse  led, 
finally,  to  a  duel  between  himself  and  Robertson's  eldest 
son,  in  which  neither  were  injured,  and  not  long  after, 
in  1786,  Stuart  died,  at  the  early  age  of  forty. 


352 


One  of  the  leading  traits  of  Robertson's  character  was 
the  firmness  and  unchanging  nature  of  his  opinions.  In 
tact,  he  seems  never  to  have  departed  from  those  prin- 
ciples which  he  laid  down  for  himself  in  early  youth, 
maintaining  the  same  doctrines  at  the  close  of  his  life 
which  he  had  adopted  at  its  beginning.  Towards  all 
other  sects  beside  his  own  he  had  ever  displayed  an 
unusual  liberality  and  tenderness  of  feeling.  Charity 
seemed  a  part  of  his  nature  and  he  always  severely 
condemned  any  departure  from  its  teachings.  When, 
in  1778,  an  attempt  was  made  to  remove  some  of  the 
disabilities  of  the  Roman  Catholics  in  England  and 
Scotland,  and  to  place  them  on  an  equality  with  their 
fellow  subjects,  Robertson  was  one  of  the  first  to  sustain 
the  liberal  measure.  He  urged  it  by  his  voice  and  his 
pen,  and  was  everywhere  known  as  the  friend  of  the 
Catholics.  This  measure,  however,  awoke  the  most 
violent  opposition  among  the  common  people;  in  London 
a  Protestant  mob  for  some  time  held  possession  of  the 
city,  burnt  the  chapels  and  dwellings  of  the  Catholics, 
and  forced  Parliament  to  abandon  the  proposed  mea- 
sure. At  Edinburgh,  a  similar  outrage  took  place. 
Tlie  mob  gained  complete  control  of  the  town,  and 
hastened  in  their  rage  to  attack  the  house  of  the  prin- 
cipal, as  the  prominent  leader  of  the  liberal  party. 
Robertson,  however,  had  left,  with  his  family,  before 
their  arrival,  and  a  body  of  soldiers,  stationed  within  it, 
kept  the  mob  from  plundering.  Yet,  unmoved  by  this 
violent  opposition,  Robertson  never  yielded  his  opinions 


HE   STILL   WKITES.  353 


for  a  moment,  or  ceased  to  advocate  them  openly  as 
well  as  in  private.  And,  in  1780,  he  delivered  a  speech 
in  the  general  assembly  advocating  the  same  measures 
and  principles  which  had  drawn  upon  him  the  rage  of 
his  fellow  citizens. 

The  writer,  who  has  once  learned  the  charms  and  the 
satisfaction  of  composition,  can  seldom  lay  down  his 
pen  until  the  close  of  life.  Robertson,  althouglrhe  had 
already  gained  sufficient  fame  and  influence,  seems 
now  to  have  written  for  the  sake  of  employment.  His 
next  subject  was  one  resembling  in  interest  and  novelty 
his  two  former  themes,  and  like  them  was  easily  made 
to  assume  the  form  of  a  biography.  Allured  by  the 
fascinating  adventures  of  Columbus,  of  Cortes  and  of 
Pizarro,  he  now  resolved  to  write  the  history  of  Ame- 
rica. His  first  design  was  to  include  in  this  work  all 
the  known  portions  of  that  country ;  to  describe  the 
discovery  and  settlement  of  Virginia  and  New  England, 
and  to  paint  the  manners  and  occupations  of  those 
singular  people  who  had  occupied  the  country  on  the 
first  appearance  of  the  whites. 

He  was  only  able,  however,  to  complete  the  narra- 
tive of  the  Spanish  settlements  in  America,  having  left 
some  fragments  of  his  labors  upon  the  history  of  the 
more  northern  portion  of  the  country.  This  work  ap- 
peared in  1777,  in  two  volumes  quarto.  In  its  compo- 
sition he  passed  many  years  of  labor,  and  had  evidently 
collected  a  vast  amount  of  materials  suitable  for  the 
work;  his  list  of  the  various  authorities  which  he  con- 


354  HISTORY   OF  AMERICA. 

suited,  printed  together  with  the  history,  shows  with 
what  diligence  and  expense  he  was  in  the  habit  of  pro- 
secuting his  researches.  He  also  retains  the  same  clear 
and  musical  style,  and  paints  the  march  of  Cortes  to 
Mexico,  and  the  voyage  of  Columbus  over  the  unknown 
ocean,  with  the  same  skill  with  which  he  had  depicted 
the  life  and  sufferings  of  Mary,  or  the  abdication  of 
Charles  Y. 

As  if,  however,  the  public  had  grown  a  little  weary  of 
his  flowing  sentences  and  his  graceful  manner,  the  history 
of  America  met  with  a  cold  reception  compared  to  that 
enthusiasm  with  which  his  earlier  works  had  been 
hailed.  Even  his  style  was  thought  to  have  declined 
in  correctness,  and  to  have  become  less  harmonious  and 
easy  than  in  his  former  writings. 

"Whether  led  by  this  cold  reception  to  believe  that 
he  had  chosen  an  unpopular  theme,  or,  wearying  of  his 
task,  Eobertson  never  completed  his  design  of  writing 
the  History  of  America;  although  in  his  preface  he 
promises  to  perform  that  labor.  It  is  likely  that,  as  he 
began  to  examine  the  materials  for  the  history  of  the 
northern  parts  of  that  continent,  he  found  them  less 
interesting,  and  the  labor  more  difficult  than  he  had 
imagined.  He  could  hardly  have  felt  much  interest  in 
the  character  of  the  Puritans,  then  so  little  understood, 
or  in  the  various  colonists  who  had  landed  upon  North 
America,  and  he  finally  resigned  the  subject,  after 
having  written  some  fragments  of  the  narratives  of 
Virginia  and  New  England. 


HIS  FAME  SPREADS  ABROAD.  355 

But,  in  1778  or  79,  lie  was  already  thinking  of  a  new 
subject  for  historical  study,  and  consulted  his  friends  as 
to  his  choice.  Mr.  Gibbon  recommended  to  him  the 
history  of  the  Protestants  in  France ;  a  narrative  adorned 
by  many  remarkable  scenes  and  exploits,  and  by  the 
genius  of  Coligny  and  Henry  IV.  Eobertson,  however, 
seems  to  have  preferred  a  subject  suggested  by  several 
other  friends — the  History  of  England  from  the  Revolu- 
tion  to  the  Accession  of  the  House  of  Hannover.  But 
his  friend  Mr.  Macpherson,  having  already  published  an 
account  of  that  period,  together  with  a  large  and  valuable 
collection  of  documents,  Robertson,  partly  out  of  re- 
gard to  his  friend's  feelings,  and  no  less  from  a  sense  of 
weariness  and  indolence,  gave  up  the  project  for  ever. 
He  was  never  to  write  any  portion  of  the  history  of 
England,  or  to  come  into  open  comparison  with  Hume, 

His  fame  meanwhile  having  spread  abroad,  in  1781 
he  was  elected  member  of  the  Academy  of  Sciences  at 
Padua ;  and  in  1783  one  of  the  foreign  members  of  that 
of  St.  Petersburg.  The  Empress  Catherine,  too,  pleased 
with  his  writings,  sent  him  a  gold  snuff-box  set  with 
diamonds. 

Robertson  was  also  the  founder  of  the  Royal  Society 
of  Edinburgh,  having  always  entertained  his  leisure 
with  scientific  pursuits.  His  active  mind  pursued  all 
kinds  of  knowledge,  and  he  was  skillful  in  mathematics 
and  geography,  as  well  as  in  mere  general  learning. 

His  last  work,  undertaken  as  an  amusement,  in  the 
decline  of  his  life,  was  an  essay  on  the  knowledge  the 


356  HIS   HEALTH   DECLINES. 

ancients  had  of  India  before  the  discoveries  of  Gama, 
and  also  an  inquiry  into  the  nature  and  amount  of  com- 
merce then  carried  on  between  Europe  and  the  East. 
This  treatise  was  suggested  by  reading  Major  RennelPs 
"  Memoir  of  a  Map  of  Hindostan :"  it  shows  learning 
and  reflection,  with  little  novelty  of  thought.  It  was 
published  in  quarto,  in  1791,  when  Robertson  was  in  his 
seventieth  year.  Lord  Brougham,  then  a  child,  was  in 
the  house  with  the  historian,  while  he  was  engaged  on 
this  work,  and  relates  that  he  used  to  leave  the  dining- 
room  both  after  dinner,  and  again  after  tea,  to  remain 
shut  up  in  his  library. 

His  health  now  began  to  decline,  and  symptoms  of 
jaundice  appeared.  He  removed  from  Edinburgh  to 
his  seat  in  the  country,  where  he  hoped  to  find  benefit 
from  purer  air.  Here,  in  mild  weather,  he  would  spend 
much  of  his  time  in  the  garden,  as  if  he  had  at  length 
grown  weary  of  books,  and  now  sought  amusement  in 
nature.  At  length,  in  1793,  he  was  confined  to  his 
couch,  and  died  on  the  llth  June  of  that  year. 

It  is  unnecessary  to  dwell  upon  his  character,  since 
it  can  be  easily  gathered  from  the  circumstances  of  his 
life.  He  was  calm  in  disposition,  free  from  passions, 
of  considerable  energy,  firm,  decided,  and  candid. 
His  opinions  once  adopted  seem  never  to  have  changed, 
and  his  taste  remained  through  life  always  the  same. 
Although  without  anything  of  the  enthusiast  in  his 
feelings,  yet  he  was  always  just  and  benevolent.  His 
conduct  towards  his  family,  when,  in  early  youth,  he 


IS   ALWAYS   CHEERFUL.  357 

devoted  himself  to  the  maintenance  of  his  younger 
brothers  and  sisters,  and  finally  provided  for  them 
comfortably  in  life,  shows  his  kind  and  generous 
nature ;  and  he  was  never  wanting  in  the  common  traits 
of  benevolence. 

He  either  aimed  to  become  a  stoic  by  philosophy 
or  was  born  one  by  nature.  He  thought  it  wrong  ever 
to  destroy  the  happiness  of  others  by  the  recital  of 
one's  own  private  griefs;  and  he  said  he  always  left 
all  his  sorrows  in  his  study.  When  he  came  into  the 
company  of  his  friends  he  was  always  good-humored 
and  cheerful,  and  he  continued  to  the  close  of  his  life 
one  of  the  most  agreeable  of  that  amiable  band  of 
authors  who  made  the  fame  of  Scotland  in  the  last 
century.  He  was  fond  of  lively  conversation,  enjoyed 
company  and  a  good  joke,  and  it  would  probably  have 
shocked  the  rigid  Knox  or  "Wishart  could  they  have 
seen  the  amiable  wit  who  was  at  the  head  of  the  church 
which  they  had  founded. 

Few  writers,  in*fact,  have  attained  a  position  of  more 
influence  than  that  held  by  Robertson.  As  principal 
of  the  University  he  controlled  the  educational  system 
of  his  country  and  influenced  the  minds  of  the  greater 
proportion  of  its  rising  intellect.  In  the  general 
assembly  he  was  long  the  ruling  member,  directing  all 
its  measures  and  infusing  his  own  mildness  and  libe- 
rality into  the  minds  of  the  young  ministers.  There, 
it  is  true,  he  often  met  with  opposition  from  Erskine 
and  the  violent  party,  but  in  the  end  he  usually 


358  HIS   ORATORY. 

triumphed,  as  patience  and  moderation  are  almost 
always  at  last  successful.  His  literary  fame,  rising 
with  Ins  years,  completed  his  wide  influence.  He  was 
the  personal  friend  of  George  II.  and  IH.,  the  favorite 
of  Lord  Bute,  and  admired  by  all  the  royal  family. 
The  fashion  of  London  was  on  his  side,  and  his  mode- 
ration and  general  good-humor  preserved  him  from 
having  an  enemy. 

He  used  his  power  in  the  most  praiseworthy  manner, 
endeavoring  by  all  means  to  serve  his  friends  and  to 
protect  and  advance  the  fame  of  his  literary  rivals. 
The  head  of  the  Scottish  kirk,  he  set  the  example  of 
perfect  charity  in  his  conduct  towards  others ;  he  was 
intimate  with  Hume  and  Kames,  the  leaders  of  free 
inquiry ;  he  remained  the  friend  of  Erskine,  the  head 
of  the  extreme  faction  in  the  church.  He  always 
inculcated  charity  as  the  chief  of  the  virtues,  and 
would  never  grow  more  angry  than  when  he  heard 
some  scandalous  or  defamatory  remark. 

As  an  orator,  he  is  pronounced  byfds  friends  to  have 
been  the  first  in  Edinburgh,  if  not  in  the  empire.  His 
voice  was  fine  and  mellow,  his  action  graceful,  his 
person  tall  and  imposing.  It  was  easy,  therefore,  for 
him,  with  his  clear  style  and  rounded  periods,  to 
produce  a  good  impression.  Whether,  however,  he  in 
fact  possessed  the  rare  gift  of  oratory,  and  was  capable, 
by  its  inspiration,  of  moving  the  feelings  and  guiding 
Ihe  mind,  is  not  easy  to  determine.  "When  he  preached 
he  spoke  chiefly  from  notes,  but  few  of  his  sermons 


LOKD   CULLEN.  359 

remain  to  show  liis  peculiar  power  in  this  respect.  In 
the  assembly,  where  he  so  loAg  presided,  he  was 
supposed  to  be  the  most  finished  of  orators.  His 
manner  at  last,  however,  probably  grew  formal,  and 
the  tones  of  his  voice,  and  the  peculiar  train  of  thoughts 
-in  which  he  indulged,  became  monotonous  and  weari- 
some to  his  younger  hearers.  A  story  is  told  by  Lord 
Brougham  of  a  joke  played  off  upon  the  principal  by 
Lord  Cullen,  which  seems  to  have  been  one  of  the  few 
occasions  on  which  his  good  humor  was  shaken.  It 
was  evening,  and  the  assembly  being  just  met,  the 
principal  not  having  arrived,  the  room  was  dimly 
lighted,  and  the  members  sat  in  silence  awaiting  their 
leader.  At  last  he  appeared,  ascended  to  his  seat,  and 
delivered  an  address  full  of  all  those  liberal  sentiments 
which  he  was  accustomed  to  utter,  and  marked  by  the 
same  dignified  action  and  mellow  periods  that  he  never 
failed  to  use.  It  was,  however,  Cullen  who  had  taken 
his  place,  for  the  time,  and  imitated  his  peculiar 
manner.  Soon  after  the  real  principal  came  in  and 
delivered  a  speech  very  nearly  to  the  same  purpose, 
and  with  manner,  voice,  and  rhythm  very  nearly  the 
same  as  that  of  Cullen.  The  assembly  burst  into  a 
general  laugh,  and  Eobertson,  when  he  found  out  the 
joke,  seemed  vexed  and  displeased. 

In  writing,  Robertson  had  formed  his  taste  on  the 
best  models  in  the  language.  He  studied  Swift  and 
Defoe,  to  acquire  a  pure  narrative  style,  and  always 
recommended  those  writers  as  the  best  examples 


360  HIS   STYLE  NOT   SIMPLE. 

of  simplicity  and  strength.  When  a  young  friend 
asked  his  advice  as  -to  what  works  he  should  read  to 
improve  his  taste,  Robertson  told  him  to  study  Robin- 
son Crusoe  and  Gulliver's  Travels. 

Yet  his  own  style  cannot  well  be  called  simple.  Its 
language  is  often  strained  and  the  rhythm  wanting  in 
melody.  He  always  seems  to  have  uttered  his  thoughts 
in  measured  and  stately  language ;  his  periods  are 
labored,  and  he  never  reaches  the  simple  and  natural 
flow,  either  of  language  or  thought,  which  marks  the 
style  of  Goldsmith  and  Hume.  His  mind  did  not  belong 
to  the  class  of  which  Swift  and  Defoe  were  leading 
examples  ;  nor  did  he  ever  attain  their  natural  ease  in 
narration  or  their  pure  and  harmonious  English.  His 
style,  in  fact,  has  everywhere  the  traces  of  imitation, 
coldness,  an  artificial  language,  and  an  appearance  of 
labor  and  study. 

The  History  of  Scotland,  the  only  one  of  his  works 
which  approaches  the  perfect  plan  of  a  history,  is  the 
best  of  his  productions,  the  most  interesting,  and  the 
most  naturally  written.  Although  he  asserts  that  he 
was  ten  years  engaged  on  it,  the  size  of  the  work  would 
hardly  seem  to  require  so  much  labor.  It  hardly 
exceeds  nine  hundred  pages  octavo,  and  in  order  to 
swell  it  to  two  volumes  he  was  obliged  to  add,  after- 
wards, by  a  few  months'  labor,  a  large  body  of  notes. 
He  was  always  fond  of  referring  to  many  authorities, 
and  was  careful  in  his  researches ;  yei  he  seldom  dis- 
covered any  new  facts  and  does  little  more  than  relate 


HE   CHOOSES    INTERESTING   SUBJECTS.  361 

gracefully  the  more  interesting  portions  of  a  well-known 
narrative. 

He  was  always  happy  in  the  choice  of  his  subjects ; 
they  were  of  unusual  interest  and  well  suited  to  his 
peculiar  genius.  The  History  of  Scotland  has  both 
these  qualities.  It  is  a  careful  account  of  the  earlier 
annals  of  Scotland,  in  a  very  concise  form,  terminated 
by  a  most  interesting  narrative  of  the  adventures  and 
death  of  Mary  of  Scots.  The  whole  work  is  only  a 
life  of  that  queen  introduced  by  a  general  essay  on 
Scottish  antiquities. 

Such  a  work  could  not  fail  to  arouse  the  national 
feelings  of  the  Scotch,  since  it  related  all  the  most 
touching  episodes  in  the  annals  of  their  country ;  dwelt 
for  a  brief  space  on  the  eminent  names  of  their  history, 
on  Bruce  and  "Wallace,  the  Arrans,  the  Hamiltons  and 
Douglases,  and  then  passed  on  to  adorn  with  the  most 
eloquent  painting  the  death  of  their  favorite  queen. 
The  history  of  Scotland,  too,  had  been  the  type  of  that 
of  Europe.  The  Scotch  had  arisen  from  barbarism  to 
feudalism,  had  known  their  own  reformation  and  their 
own  struggle  for  liberty,  and  had  finally  attained  peace 
and  prosperity  by  adopting  a  liberal  form  of  govern- 
ment, and  by  placing  a  king  of  their  own  royal  race  on 
the  throne  of  England.  It  was  easy,  therefore,  for 
Hobertson,  by  dwelling  upon  these  animating  subjects, 
as  well  as  by  adding  an  appearance  of  philosophy  and 
learning,  to  produce  a  work  that  should  have  unfailing 
interest  for  his  own  countrymen,  even  had  he  never 

16 


362  HIS   VIEW    OF   THE    STATE   OF   EUROPE. 

possessed  that  clear  and  harmonious  style  which  so 
delighted  the  critics  of  London. 

The  history  of  Charles  Y.  is  another  example  of  the 
peculiar  turn  of  Robertson's  mind  towards  biography. 
It  is  little  more  than  a  life  of  that  monarch,  prefaced  by 
a,  learned  account  of  the  progress  of  modern  civilization. 
Robertson  wras  seemingly  incapable  of  forming  the  plan 
of  any  historical  work  which  should  not  revolve  wholly 
upon  the  life  of  a  single  hero.  A  history,  however,  is 
the  biography  of  a  nation,  and  no  work  which  treats 
only  of  an  individual  can  deserve  that  name. 

The  view  of"  the  state  of  Europe"  is  the  most  learned 
and  philosophical  of  all  Robertson's  productions.  The 
earlier  portion  is  somewhat  dilll,  as  he  relates  too  many 
well-known  facts,  and  dwells  too  long  on  the  commoner 
causes  of  the  fall  of  Rome;  but  his  account  of  the 
growth  of  the  free  cities,  of  the  progress  of  knowledge, 
and  of  the  principles  which  form  the  base  of  European 
civilization,  show  considerable  acuteness  and  power. 
Without  much  novelty,  or  any  bold  speculation,  the 
essay  shows  great  labor  and  a  power  of  thinking  clearly 
as  well  as  of  presenting  a  pleasing  theory  in  a  graceful 
form. 

Yet  nothing  can  be  more  awkward  than  the  plan  of 
this  work.  The  •  whole  of  the  first  volume,  a  thick 
quarto,  is  consumed  in  the  introduction,  and  the  life  of 
Charles  with  notes  makes  up  the  remaining  two.  We 
are  presented  with  a  history  of  the  whole  civilization  of 
Europe,  in  order  to  prepare  the  way  for  the  narrative 


HIS  PICTUKES.  363 

of  the  life  of  a  single  king  who  played  but  a  brief  and 
unimportant  part  in  the  affairs  of  the  world;  and  in 
Robertson's  exaggerated  view  of  his  subject,  Charles 
was  the  aim  towards  which  all  the  progress  of  Europe 
tended,  and  his  age  the  crowning  one  of  its  civiliza- 
tion. 

When  he  finally  reaches  his  real  subject,  the  life  of 
his  hero,  all  the  natural  powers  of  the  writer  are  at  once 
called  into  play.  He  paints,  with  his  usual  happy 
manner,  the  infancy  of  Charles,  his  growing  talents,  the 
character  of  Ximenes,  and  the  general  condition  of  that 
vast  empire  which  now  acknowledged  a  single  ruler. 
The  subject  is  full  of  interest,  and  scarcely  needed  all 
the  labor  and  fine  writing  which  Robertson  bestowed 
upon  it  to  give  his  work  a  lasting  fame.  He  paints  with 
admirable  skill  the  adventures  of  the  chivalrous  Francis, 
the  beginning  and  progress  of  the  Reformation,  the 
growth  of  Jesuitism,  and  the  daring  character  and 
unceasing  labors  of  the  undaunted  Luther.  At  length 
the  biography,  after  a  series  of  brilliant  sketches,  reaches 
its  crowning  excellence  in  the  account  of  the  abdication 
of  Charles,  and  there  can  hardly  be  found  in  any 
language  a  spectacle  of  greater  interest,  or  one  more 
happily  delineated,  than  that  which  Robertson  has 
given  of  that  remarkable  event.  In  his  account,  how- 
ever, of  the  conduct  of  Charles  after  his  retirement,  the 
historian  is  supposed  to  have  fallen  into  a  series  of 
errors  almost  inexcusable,  and  several  later  writers  have 
shown,  either  that  his  materials  were  defective  or  that 


364:  HISTOEY   OF  AMERICA. 

he  willfully  colored  his  narrative  in  order  to  give  a  more 
interesting  view  of  the  last  days  of  his  hero. 

In  the  preface  to  Charles  V.,  Eobertson  observes  that 
the  exploits  of  the  Spanish  in  America,  under  Cortes 
and  Pizarro,  form  a  subject  too  extensive  to  be 
properly  treated  in  that  work,  and  that  he  hopes  at 
some  future  time  to  write  a  separate  account  of  those 
achievements.  This  was  the  origin  of  the  history  of 
America,  a  series  of  biographies  of  Columbus,  Cortes 
and  Pizarro,  interwoven  with  various  essays  on  the 
manners  and  religious  belief  of  the  native  inhabitants. 
This  subject  has  been  so  fully  and  gracefully  treated  by 
a  later  historian  of  our  own  country,  that  the  defects  of 
Robertson's  work  need  not  be  indicated.  He  evidently, 
however,  had  but  slight  acquaintance  with  the  anti- 
quities of  the  Peruvian  and  Aztec  races,  or,  perhaps, 
chose  to  neglect  those  topics  for  the  purpose  of  directing 
the  chief  attention  of  the  reader  to  his  brilliant  narrative 
of  the  exploits  of  their  conquerors.  In  these  relations, 
he  rises  to  the  highest  excellence  of  his  art,  and  no 
writer  since  Plutarch  has  produced  such  pure  and 
delightful  biographies  as  are  those  of  Columbus  or 
Cortes.  Robertson  selects  only  those  facts  needful  to 
be  known,  combines  them  with  singular  taste,  and  fills 
the  imagination  with  a  clear  and  perfect  conception  of 
his  hero. 

His  geographical  writings,  comprising  the  learned 
introduction  to  the  history  of  America,  are  also  not 
inferior  to  the  general  tone  of  his  waitings.  They  are 


365 


laborious,  accurate  and  full  of  interest.  Nor  is  it  easy 
to  find  anywhere  examples  of  knowledge  so  happily 
conveyed,  or  of  deep  learning  so  skillfully  brought  down 
to  the  common  understanding. 

In  his  own  age,  Robertson  was  thought  to  have  pro- 
duced, in  his  History  of  Scotland,  a  perfect  model  of 
historical  writing ;  and  Walpole,  speaking  the  common 
opinion,  pronounced  him  as  sagacious  and  penetrating 
as  Tacitus,  as  perspicuous  as  Livy,  and  with  far  less 
partiality  than  his  countryman,  Mr.  Hume.  At  least, 
he  must  be  considered  the  most  perfect  of  modern 
biographers.  In  this  respect,  time  only  lends  value  to 
his  productions,  and  they  will,  doubtless,  continue  to 
be  read  as  long  as  the  language,  which  he  so  aided  in 
purifying  and  improving,  shall  be  spoken  among  men. 


GEOEGE  LOKD  LYTTLETOK 

THE  life  of  Ly  ttleton  has  been  written  by  Dr.  John- 
son, in  his  usual  concise  and  careful  manner,  omitting 
"whatever  is  unimportant,  and  telling  every  thing  that 
the  reader  would  most  wish  to  know.  All  that  I  can  hope 
to  do,  therefore,  is  to  enlarge  upon  his  narrative  by  such 
new  particulars  as  later  materials  have  placed  within 
my  reach.  The  father  of  the  historian  was  Sir  Thomas 
Ly  ttleton,  baronet,  a  person  of  large  fortune,  and  of 
considerable  political  influence.  He  married  Christian, 
the  younger  of  the  two  sisters  of  Sir  Eichard  Temple, 
of  Stowe,  afterwards  Yiscount  Cobham;  and  by  his 
marriage  had  five  sons,  all  of  whom  rose  to  influential 
stations,  and  were  in  some  measure  conspicuous.  George, 
•the  eldest,  was  born  17th  January,  1709.  He  was  edu- 
cated at  Eton,  where  he  was  "  so  much  distinguished," 
says  Dr.  Johnson,  "  that  his  exercises  were  recommended 
as  models  to  his  schoolfellows." 

From  thence  he  went  to  Oxford,  where  he  continued 
to  display  the  same  taste  for  study  and  early  made  him- 
self some  reputation  as  a  poet  by  his  poem  on  "  Blen- 


HIS   MANNERS.  367 

lieim.  Here,  too,  lie  probably  wrote  his  "  Progress  of 
Love,"  and  the  "  Persian  Letters."  After  a  short  stay  at 
Oxford  he  began  his  travels  in  1728,  with  the  design  of 
performing  what  was  then  called  the  grand  tour,  and 
meant  usually  a  visit  to  France  and  Italy.  He  stopped 
for  some  time  at  Luneville,  the  capital  of  the  little  sove- 
reignty of  Lorraine,  where  his  father  desired  him  to 
perfect  himself  in  the  French,  as  well  as  to  improve  his 
manner,  and  acquire  ease  and  grace  in  society. 

These  last  accomplishments,  however,  nature  had  for 
ever  debarred  him  from  possessing.  His  appearance 
was  awkward  and  unattractive;  and  his  nervous  man- 
ner and  restless  carriage  made  him  ill  at  ease,  except 
among  his  familiar  friends.  Johnson  thinks,  with  par- 
donable blindness,  that  the  term  "  respectable  Hotten- 
tots," which  Chesterfield  has  applied  to  himself,  was 
meant  for  Lyttleton :  a  mistake  that  shows  at  least  that 
there  must  have  been  good  grounds  for  having  committed 
it.  Probably  he  made  more  progress  in  the  language, 
for  he  seems  to  have  written  French  with  considerable 
ease.  But  from  the  first  he  had  become  dissatisfied 
with  Luneville.  Always  strict  in  his  morals,  Lyttleton 
was  shocked  at  the  dissipation  of  the  little  court.  Its 
chief  amusements  were  gaming  and  the  chase,  for  neither 
of  which  he  had  any  taste,  while  he  made  some  errors 
in  etiquette,  which  long  hung  heavy  on  his  mind,  par- 
ticularly as  he  was  at  that  period  of  life,  when  such 
trifles  make  a  serious  impression.  From  Luneville  he 
wrote  to  his  father  various  kind  and  dutiful  letters, 


368  GOES   TO   SOISSONS. 

which  show  him  to  have  been  a  considerate  and  excel- 
lent son,  and  are  the  best  authorities  for  that  "period  of 
his  life. 

Having  obtained  the  consent  of  his  father,  he  next 
went  to  Soissons,  where  was  sitting  the  celebrated  con- 
gress. Here  he  made  the  acquaintance  of  Mr.  Poyntz, 
one  of  the  British  commissioners,  who  not  only  culti- 
vated his  society,  but  employed  him  in  the  course  of 
the  negotiations.  At  the  close  of  the  conference,  Mr. 
Poyntz  was  made  ambassador  to  Paris :  there  Lyttleton 
accompanied  him ;  was  employed  by  him  in  various 
important  business,  and  found  an  entrance  into  all  the 
society  of  the  capital.  His  father  seems  now  to  have 
been  somewhat  anxious  about  his  morals;  but  Mr. 
Poyntz  assures  him,  in  one  of  his  letters,  that  the  bad 
examples  of  Paris  or  any  other  place  could  have  no 
effect  upon  his  son ;  and  he  prophesies  that  Lyttleton 
will  become  an  ornament  to  his  country  and  his  friends 
if  he  can  only  withdraw  himself  from  too  great  atten- 
tion to  literature,  and  attend  more  heartily  to  business. 
From  Paris  Lyttleton  wrote  a  poetical  letter  to  Dr. 
Ascough,  at  Oxford,  and  another  to  Pope  from  Borne. 
These  poems,  like  all  his  poetical  writings,  are  smooth, 
and  generally  correct ;  but  show  no  unusual  refinement 
of  taste  nor  any  ear  for  harmony.  The  "  Epistle  to 
Belinda,"  published  in  1731,  is  a  feeble  effort  to  imitate 
the  "  Universal  Passion"  of  Young. 

Lyttleton  having  returned  to  England  with  a  great 
reputation  for  talents  and  good  character,  was  now  to 


PITT   AND  GKENVILLE.  369 

make  his  way  in  public  life.  Early  ambitious  of  dis- 
tinction, lie  had  already  tried  literature,  with  a  success 
greater  than  his  merit ;  and  he  now  turned  himself  to 
politics,  to  attain  advancement  in  a  similar  manner. 
In  1733,  Frederick  Prince  of  Wales,  having  formed  an 
opposition  against  his  father,  George  II.  and  his  minister 
Walpole,  selected  Lyttleton  for  his  secretary  and  confi- 
dential adviser.  Not  long  a&er,  in  1735,  he  obtained  a 
seat  in  Parliament,  and  prepared  to  enter  upon  a  struggle 
for  office  and  emolument. 

By  his  connections,  no  less  than  his  -reputation,  he 
had  every  prospect  of  rapid  success.  He  formed  one 
of  that  powerful  family  connection  of  which  William 
Pitt  and  George  Grenville  became  finally  the  leading 
members.  He  was  nephew  to  Temple,  Yiscount  Cob- 
ham,  and  cousin  to  Richard  Grenville,  afterwards  Earl 
Temple,  and  to  George  Grenville,  the  famous  minister. 
"William  Pitt,  afterwards  Earl  of  Chatham,  married  his 
cousin,  and  his  own  sister  was  married  to  Pitt's  elder" 
brother,  while  many  of  his  relatives,  in  the  gradual  rise 
of  the  family,  gained  high  stations  among  the  leading 
aristocracy. 

In  the  Parliament  into  which  he  now  entered,  Lyttle- 
ton formed  one  of  the  opposition  to  Sir  Robert  Walpole, 
who  had  so  long  ruled  over  England  with  tact  and  dis- 
cretion. In  the  same  assembly,  for  the  first  time, 
"William  Pitt  and  George  Grenville  entered  upon  public 
life.  They  were  all  three  young  men  little  known  to 
politicians,  nor  did  either  probably  foresee  at  that  period 


3TO  THE  COTJSINHOOD. 

the  great  influence  to  which  they  were  finally  to  attain. 
Chatham  had  not  yet  made  his  first  speech,  and  George 
Grenville  was  almost  unknown.  Of  the  three  relatives, 
Lyttleton  was  by  far  the  most  conspicuous,  and  gave 
the  best  promise  of  future  advancement.  When  they 
began  their  first  attacks  upon  Walpole,  he  contented 
himself  with  sneering  at  them  as  "  boy  patriots ;"  and 
when  at  length  they  rose  to  power,  they  were  known 
among  politicians  as  the  "  Cousinhood."  It  is  remark- 
able, however,  that  Lyttleton,  who  began  his  parlia- 
mentary career  with  the  brightest  promise,  soon  fell 
behind  his  relatives,  and  never  gained  anything  of  that 
influence  which  belonged  to  Pitt  and  Grenville. 

"-For  many  years,"  says  Johnson,  "the  name  of 
George  Lyttletcn  was  seen  in  every  account  of  every 
debate  in  the  House  of  Commons.  He  opposed  the 
standing  army,  he  opposed  the  excise — he  supported 
the  motion  for  the  removal  of  Walpole.  His  zeal  was 
considered  by  the  courtiers  as  not  only  violent,  but 
acrimonious  and  malignant." 

He  could  not,  however,  have  opposed  the  excise,  as 
that  was  given  up  by  Walpole  in  1737.  Nor  can  the 
"  courtiers"  have  been  right  in  their  estimate  of  his  zeal 
or  his  motives :  he  was  no  doubt  impelled  by  that 
sincere  passion  for  liberty  which  is  common  to  young 
minds,  to  oppose  what  he  believed  to  be  arbitrary  and 
tyrannical  measures ;  and  although  he  may  have  gradu- 
ally lost  some  of  his  warmth,  he  never  gave  up  wholly 
his  love  for  liberty. 


HIS    LITERARY    FRIENDS.  371 

While  secretary  to  the  Prince  of  Wales,  his  fondness 
for  letters  led  him  to  aid  several  of  the  authors  of  the 
day,  by  placing  them  in  various  posts  about  the  prince. 
He  counselled  the  prince  to  enlist  literature  on  his  side, 
and  was  no  doubt  the  chief  source  of  his  liberality  to 
literary  men.  With  Thomson  he  long  retained  a  sin- 
cere friendship,  and  when  the  poet  died  he  brought  out 
a  corrected  edition  of  his  works.  In  this  edition  lie 
ventured  to  amend  "Liberty,"  by  leaving  out  much 
that  the  poet  had  written;  and  at  one  time  lie  even 
entertained  the  strange  idea  of  improving  the  "  Seasons" 
by  a  similar  correction.  Mr.  Phillirnore,  his  last  bio- 
grapher, has  found  a  copy  of  the  poem  prepared  in  this 
manner  for  printing.  But  fortunately  for  his  own  repu- 
tation, as  well  as  that  of  the  poet,  he  soon  gave  up  .his 
design. 

Mallet,  Moore,  West,  and  Hammond  were  also  friends 
of  Lyttleton,  and  he  became  generally  known  as  a 
critic  whose  favor  it  was  well  to  propitiate,  and  who 
was  well  disposed  towards  all  rising  authors.  Hume, 
at  a  later  period,  made  some  advances  towards  his 
acquaintance,  wrhich  never  ripened  into  any  good  feel- 
ing on  either  side,  while  Robertson  was  immediately 
received  into  favor,  and  was  overwhelmed  with  praise 
and  regard.  Like  many  men  of  moderate  talent,  Lyttle- 
ton's  criticisms  were  governed  by  his  feelings  as  much 
as  by  his  intellect. 

He  was  now  "  in  the  front  rank  of  opposition,"  says 
Johnson,  "  and  Pope,  who  was  incited,  it  is  not  easy  to 


372  HE   MARKIES. 

say  how,  to  increase  the  clamor  against  the  ministry, 
commended  him  among  the  other  patriots.  •  This  drew 
upon  him  the  reproaches  of  Fox,  who  in  the  House 
imputed  to  him  as  a  crime  his  intimacy  with  a  lam- 
pooner so  unjust  and  licentious.  Lyttleton  supported 
his  friend,  and  replied  that  he  thought  it  an  honor  to 
be  received  into  the  familiarity  of  so  great  a  poet." 

In  1741  he  married  Miss  Lucy  Fortescue,  of  Devon- 
shire, with  whom  he  lived  for  several  years  in  great 
happiness,  when  she  died  in  childbed,  leaving  a  son, 
afterwards  Lord  Lyttleton,  and  two  daughters.  This 
son  became  as  renowned  for  his  dissipation  and  unbe- 
lief as  his  father  had  been  for  the  opposite  qualities, 
and  his  conduct  embittered  the  close  of  Lyttleton's  life. 

Not  long  after  his  marriage,  the  ministry  of  "Walpole 
fell,  and  the  Temple  connection  came  into  power. 
Their  accession  to  office  can  hardly  be  thought  a  benefit 
to  their  country,  since  under  their  auspices  began  that 
course  of  policy  which  ended  in  the  freedom  of 
America.  In  1744  Lyttleton  was  made  lord  of  the 
treasury,  and  from  that  time  seems  never  to  have  lived 
satisfied  out  of  office. 

It  was  during  this  period  of  his  life,  however,  or  not 
long  befoi  e,  while  apparently  immersed  in  schemes  of 
personal  aggrandizement,  that  he  began  to  reflect  upon 
the  subject  of  religion,  and  was  finally  convinced  of 
the  truth  and  importance  of  Christianity.  He  was  not, 
as  is  commonly  supposed,  an  infidel  at  the  time  of  this 
change,  but  had  probably  been  much  shaken  in  his 


HIS   CONVERSION.  373 

faith  by  the  arguments  of  his  unbelieving  associates. 
His  uncle,  Lord  Cobham,  who  seems  to  have  had  great 
influence  in  the  family,  belonged  to  the  class  of  free- 
thinkers, and  many  others  of  Lyttleton's  acquaintance 
secretly  cherished  the  same  opinions.  His  father,  how- 
ever, was  a  person  of  sincere  piety,  and  the  son  was 
also  greatly  influenced  by  his  friend  Gilbert  "West,  who 
had  lately  been  won  over  to  Christianity  from  being 
one  of  its  most  sincere  opponents.  Johnson,  in  his 
"  Life  of  West,"  says ,  "  "West  was  very  often  visited  by 
Lyttleton  and.  Pitt,  who,  when  they  were  weary  of 
faction  and  debates,  used  at  Wickham  to  find  books, 
cpiet,  a  decent  table,  and  literary  conversation.  There 
is  at  Wickham  a  walk  made  by  Pitt,  and  what  is  of  far 
more  importance,  at  "Wickham  Lyttleton  received  that 
conviction  which  produced  his  '  Dissertation  on  St. 
Paul.'  These  two  illustrious  friends  had  listened  to  the 
blandishments  of  infidelity  ;  and  when  "West's  '  Obser- 
vations on  the  Resurrection"  were  published,  it  was 
bought  by  some  who  did  not  know  his  change  of 
opinion,  in  expectation  of  more  objections  against 
Christianity." 

In  1747  Lyttleton  published  his  "  Observations  on  the 
Conversion  of  St.  Paul,"  a  work  which  Johnson  evi- 
dently thought  unanswerable,  and  which  still  maintains 
a  great  reputation  among  thoughtful  men.  Lyttleton 
wrote  with  all  the  ardor  of  sincerity,  and  he  inculcates 
truth  with  clearness  'and  force.  The  best  applause 
which  he  received  for  his  production  was  the  following 
letter  from  his  father : 


374  POLITICAL    CONNECTIONS. 

"  I  have  read  your  religious  treatise  "  (he  writes)  "  with  infinite  plea- 
sure and  satisfaction.  The  style  is  fine  and  clear,  the  arguments  close, 
cogent,  and  irresistible.  May  the  King  of  kings,  whose  glorious  cause 
you  have  so  well  defended,  reward  your  pious  labors,  and  grant  that  I 
may  be  found  worthy,  through  the  merits  of  Jesus  Christ,  to  be  an  eye- 
witness of  that  happiness  which  I  doubt  not  he  will  bountifully  bestow 
upon  you.  In  the  mean  time  I  shall  never  cease  glorifying  God  for 
having  endowed  you  with  such  useful  talents,  and  giving  me  so  good  a 
son.  Your  affectionate  father, 

THOMAS  LTTTLETON. 

A  few  years  after,  in  1Y51,  this  good  parent  died, 
leaving  to  his  sou  a  baronet's  title,  with  a  large  estate. 
He  was  now,  therefore,  placed  in  a  position  of  affluence 
which  might  well  have  satisfied  his  desires,  had  not 
ambition  urged  him  to  continue  his  political  efforts. 

As  a  politician  Lyttleton  had  formed  many  connec- 
tions, which,  however  brilliant  in  themselves,  could 
have  had  but  an  unhappy  influence  on  his  character, 
and  it  becomes  the  more  wonderful  that  in  so  loose  an 
age,  associating  with  the  free-thinkers  and  libertines  of 
&e  time,  he  should  have  so  well  preserved  his  own 
purity  and  faith.  He  was  long  connected  with  Boling- 
broke,  the  deist,  and  Chesterfield  the  gentlemanly 
unbeliever  ;  he  corresponded  with  Yoltaire,  and  was 
the  patron  of  Mallet.  During  his  political  career,  how- 
ever, his  character  has  not  escaped  reproach.  He 
was  thought  at  times  to  have  sacrificed  his  consistency 
to  his  love  of  office,  and  sometimes  to  have  acted  in  a 
manner  that  seemed  treacherous  and  insincere.  He 
suddenly  abandoned  the  Prince  of  Wales,  with  whom 
he  had  been  so  long  connected,  to  take  office  in  1Y44 


THE  "DIALOGUES  OF  THE  DEAD."  375 

under  Pelham,  while  ten  years  later,  he  abandoned  Pitt 
to  become  chancellor  of  the  exchequer  in  the  new 
ministry.  Pitt,  however,  soon  succeeded  in  driving 
his  enemies  from  office,  and  Lyttleton  loosing  his  chan- 
cellorship, received  a  peerage.  This  was  the  close  of 
his  official  life,  and  he  now  once  more  returned  to  the 
studies  of  his  youth.  In  1755  he  had  made  a  journey 
to  Wales,  an  account  of  which  he  gave  in  a  letter  to 
Archibald  Bower,  a  man  who  long  retained  his  friend- 
ship although  he  seems  never  to  have  deserved  it. 
Like  most  good  men  he  was  easily  deceived,  and  hoped 
to  find  in  others  that  sincerity  which  he  possessed  him- 
self. His  "  Dialogues  of  the  Dead  "  appeared  in  1760, 
"  which,"  says  Johnson,  "  were  very  eagerly  read, 
though  the  production  rather,  as  it  seems,  of  leisure 
than  of  study ;  rather  effusions  than  compositions. 
The  names  of  his  persons,  too,  often  enable  the  reader 
to  anticipate  their  conversation ;  and  when  they  have 
met,  they  too  often  part  without  any  conclusion.  He 
lias  copied  Fenelon  more  than  Fontenelle." 

"  "When  they  were  first  published,  they  were  kindly 
commended  by  the  critical  reviewers  ;  and  poor  Lyttle- 
ton, with  humble  gratitude,  returned,  in  a  note,  which  I 
have  read,  acknowledgments  which  can  never  be 
proper  since  they  must  be  paid  either  for  flattery  or  for 
justice." 

In  all  his  literary  career  Lyttleton  had  hitherto  been 
a  professed  imitator ;  he  had  followed  Pope  in  poetry, 
Montesquieu  in  his  Persian  letters,  and  Fontenelle  in 


376  ms  HISTORY. 

his  "Dialogues  of  tlie  Dead."     But  now  that  leisure 
seemed  given  him  for  more  extended  labors,  he  began 
to  press  forward  a,  larger  work  upon  which  he  had  long 
been   engaged,  and  which  had  been  making  gradual 
progress  during  all  his  political  career.     This  was  his 
"  History  of  Henry  H.,"  a  work  which  was  more  pain- 
fully elaborated  than  almost   any  other  in  literature. 
In  1741,  Lyttleton  had  told  Pope  that  it  would  be 
ready  in  two  or  three  years,  but  was  not  finally  pub- 
lished until  twenty-three  years  afterwards,  when  three 
volumes  only  were  printed,  the  conclusion  not  appear- 
ing until  1771.     Johnson  speaks  of  the  work  with  a 
contempt  which  is  not  undeserved.     The  subject  Lyt- 
tleton had  selected,  because  it  seemed  to  give  the  origin 
of  the  British  constitution  and  to  support  those  political 
views  which  were  held  by  his  party.     But  the  period 
lay  too  far  back  to  be  of  much  interest  to  the  public  ; 
nor  had  the  author  any  of  those  charms  of  manner  or 
arrangement  which  lend  interest  to  any  theme.     His 
style  was  cold  and  heavy,  without  a  trace  of  fancy  or 
any  of  the  peculiar  graces  of  the  historian.     Lyttleton 
possessed  plain  sense  and  an  industrious  intellect,  but 
he  never  rose  in  any  of  his  productions  above  the  level 
of  a  second-rate  writer. 

Among  his  friends,  however,  and  in  the  literary 
circles  of  the  capital,  the  work  was  wrell  spoken  of. 
Horace  Walpole  writes  of  it,  to  the  author,  in  the 
following  manner:  "I  twice  waited  on  you  in.  Hill- 
street,  to  thank  you  for  lending  me  your  "  History," 


ITS   LABOR.  377 

which  I  am  sorry  I  kept  longer  than  you  intended  ;  but 
you  must  not  wonder.  I  read  it  with,  as  great  attention 
as  pleasure ;  it  is  not  a  book  to  skim  but  to  learn  by 
heart,  if  one  means  to  learn  anything  of  England. 
You  call  it  the  "  History  of  Henry  H. — it  is  literally 
the  History  of  our  Constitution,  and  will  last  much 
longer  than,  I  fear,  the  latter  will ;  for,  alas !  my  Lord, 
your  style,  which  will  fix  and  preserve  our  language, 
cannot  do  what  language  cannot  do — reform  the  nature 
of  man." 

With  these  prettinesses  and  artificial  compliments 
Lyttleton  was  probably  satisfied,  and  believed  that  he 
had  indeed  produced  a  work  which  should  live  for  ever. 
His  care  in  printing  was  so  excessive  and  unusual  as 
was  equalled  only  by  his  labor  in  writing.  The  whole 
work  was  printed  twice  over,  a  great  part  of  it  three 
times,  and  many  sheets  four  or  five  times.  These  costly 
advantages  were  paid  for  by  the  author,  who  is  said  to 
have  expended  a  thousand  pounds  in  getting  out  his 
work.  It  was  nearly  ten  years  printing,  having  been 
commenced  in  1755,  and  the  copy  which  Walpole 
saw  in  1758  was  one  printed  only  for  the  use  of  the 
author. 

"  Andrew  Reid,"  says  Johnson,  "  a  man  not  without 
considerable  abilities,  undertook  to  persuade  Lyttleton, 
as  he  had  persuaded  himself,  that  he  was  master  of  the 
secret  of  punctuation  ;  and  as  fear  begets  credulity,  he 
was  employed,  I  know  not  at  what  price,  to  point  the 
pages  of  <  Henry  the  Second" — When  time  brought 
the  history  to  a  third  edition,  Reid  was  either  dead  or 


378  ITS   STYLE   AND   SUBJECT. 

discarded  ;  and  the  superintendence  of  typography  and 
punctuation  was  committed  to  a  man  originally  a  comb- 
maker,  but  then  known  by  the  style  of  Doctor.  Some- 
thing uncommon  was  probably  expected,  and  something 
uncommon  was  at  last  done  ;  for  to  the  doctor's  edition 
is  appended  what  the  world  had  hardly  seen  before,  a 
list  of  errors  in  nineteen  pages." 

The  history,  notwithstanding  its  moderate  merit, 
passed  through  several  editions,  and  was  read  with  plea- 
sure and  profit  by  the  whigs  of  the  time.  Lyttleton,  so 
influential  by  his  political  connections,  his  wide  circle 
of  literary  acquaintance,  and  the  general  opinion  of  his 
character  and  abilities,  could  not  fail  to  win  sufficient 
applause  to  satisfy  his  vanity,  and  was  unconscious  how 
soon  after  these  exterior  advantages  had  passed  away, 
his  book  must  sink  into  oblivion. 

The  work  was,  in  fact,  highly  instructive,  learned, 
careful,  and  accurate,  but  like  many  another  of  that 
description,  wanted  the  crowning  touch  of  genius  to 
give  it  lasting  importance.  Its  whole  plan  and  form 
was  tedious  and  uninviting.  Lyttleton  had  pursued, 
through  five  dreary  volumes,  the  life  of  a  king  who 
had  been  long  forgotten  by  the  public,  and  whose 
reign,  with  one  or  two  striking  episodes,  had  been  dull 
and  unimportant.  His  work  is  as  long  as  the  whole  of 
Hume's  History  of  England,  and  while  that  graceful 
writer  had  condensed  in  a  few  pages  the  Life  of  Henry 
II.,  Lyttleton  gave  to  one  reign  labor  and  space  suffi- 
cient for  the  history  of  the  nation. 

The  work,  too,  was  little  more  than  a  party  pamphlet 


HE   IS   A   LEADING   CRITIC.  379 

written  to  sustain  the  political  theories  of  the  whigs, 
and  even  in  the  preface  he  takes  occasion  to  laud  the 
Bevolution  of  1688  and  to  declaim  against  the  growth 
of  prerogative.  His  style,  clear  and  easy,  is  altogether 
uninteresting ;  and  he  evidently  had  no  power  to  rise 
above  the  dullness  of  a  common  chronicler.  There  is 
scarcely  to  be  found  in  all  his  volumes  a  single  passage 
of  interest,  a  single  character  painted  with  skill  and 
warmth,  or  any  trace  of  thought,  or  fancy.  Lyttleton 
was  neither  a  poet,  philosopher,  nor  possessed  of  any 
trace  of  genius,  and  while  looked  upon  as  the  best 
critic  of  the  time,  he  could  have  had  no  just  conception 
of  merit  in  writing. 

Yet  he  was  now  giving  law  to  the  world  of  letters, 
and  with  Chesterfield  and  Garrick  held  undisputed 
sway.  He  had  always  been  fond  of  the  society  of  men 
of  letters,  a  taste  that  his  position  and  influence  easily 
enabled  him  to  gratify.  In  early  life  he  had  been 
intimate  with  Pope,  and  had  cultivated  the  friendship 
of  that  poet  by  dull  verses  in  his  praise.  He  spent 
much  time  in  the  learned  and  noble  society  of  Twick- 
enham, was  esteemed  by  Lord  Bolingbroke,  and  was 
often  at  Dawley  with  Pultney  and  Pope.  Thomson 
had  been  his  chosen  friend,  and  with  Mallet,  Hammond, 
and  Moore  he  had  ever  been  familiar.  Towards  the 
close  of  his  life  he  still  continued  to  visit  at  Garrick's 
and  to  join  the  literary  assemblies  of  Mrs.  Montague 
and  perhaps  Mrs.  Yesey.  He  knew  Johnson  slightly, 
and  had  some  acquaintance  with  that  new  race  of 


380  HIS   OKATOEY. 

authors,  who,  united  *in  the  Literary  Club,  liad  arisen  to 
control  the  world  of  letters. 

One  of  the  least  pleasant  passages  in  his  political  life 
occurred  towards  its  close ;  he  quarrelled  with  all  those 
gifted  relatives  with  whom  he  had  began  his  career,  and 
found  himself  in  open  hostility  to  Pitt,  the  Grenvilles 
and  the  whole  "  cousinhood."  He  even  fell  into  a 
violent  dispute  with  the  Earl  of  Temple  in  the  House 
of  Lords,  and  for  a  time  could  never  speak  of  Pitt  or 
Temple  without  all  the  bitterness  of  a  partisan.  At 
length,  however,  in  the  changes  of  politics,  the  old 
allies  reunited,  and  Lyttleton  sustained  the  Grenvilles 
in  all  those  measures  that  led  to  the  loss  of  America. 

As  a  parliamentary  speaker,  Lyttleton  seems  to  have 
been  little  more  happy  than  as  a  writer.  He  thought 
himself  an  orator,  but  was  lost  in  the  crowd  of  inferior 
speakers.  His  position  and  character  gave  weight  to 
whatever  he  said,  and  he  was  always  heard  with  respect. 
His  constitutional  knowledge  was  considerable,  and  he 
had  certainly  a  passion  for  what  he  believed  to  be 
liberty;  but  his  political  theories  were  all  superficial, 
and  he  could  advocate  oppression  in  America  while  he 
upheld  freedom  at  home. 

In  private  life  he  seems  to  have  been  amiable  and 
popular.  He  lived  at  Hagley,  his  family  seat,  which 
he  had  adorned  with  a  fine  new  mansion,  and  had  culti- 
vated and  laid  out  the  grounds  with  the  ardor  of  a 
Shenstone.  Here  he  was  fond  of  entertaining  an  agree- 
able circle  of  friends,  composed  of  the  most  learned  and 


THE   CLOSE   OF   HIS   LIFE.  381 

gifted  intellects  of  the  day.  His  disposition  had  always 
been  cheerful ;  he  had  known  few  of  the  common  ills  of 
life  and  had  possessed  a  prosperity  unusual  even  among 
the  great.  Several  circumstances,  however,  marred  his 
perfect  enjoyment.  Some  years  after  the  death  of  his 
first  wife  he  had  married  Miss  Rich,  daughter  of  Sir 
Robert  Eich,  a  connection  which  did  not  add  to  his 
happiness.  His  eldest  son,  too,  who  in  early  youth 
seemed  to  give  great  promise,  as  he  grew  up  became 
one  of  the  most  dissolute  rakes  of  the  time.  His  con- 
duct gave  constant  uneasiness  to  his  father  and  destroyed 
for  ever  his  hopes  of  domestic  peace. 

Lyttleton  had  never  strong  health,  his  frame  was 
always  tender  and  his  appearance  delicate.  At  sixty 
he  was  seized  with  an  illness  which  fmally  proved  fatal. 
As  he  drew  near  his  end  all  those  Christian  impulses 
which  sustained  him  through  life  grew  stronger  at  its 
close.  u  Doctor,"  he  said  to  his  excellent  physician, 
"  you  shall  be  my  confessor.  When  I  first  set  out  in 
the  world,  I  had  friends  who  endeavored  to  shake  my 
belief  in  the  Christian  religion.  I  saw  difficulties  which 
staggered  me,  but  I  kept  my  mind  open  to  conviction. 
The  evidences  and  doctrines  of  Christianity  studied 
with  attention  made  me  a  most  firm  and  persuaded 
believer  in  the  Christian  religion.  I  have  made  it  the 
rule  of  my  life  and  it  is  the  ground  of  my  future  hopes. 
I  have  erred  and  sinned,  but  have  repented,  and  never* 
indulged  any  vicious  habit.  In  politics  and  public  life 
I  have  made  public  good  the  rule  of  my  conduct.  I 


382  ins  DEATH, 

never  gave  counsels  which  I  did  not  at  the  time  think 
the  best.  I  have  seen  that  I  was  sometimes  in  the 
wrong,  but  I  did  not  err  designedly.  I  have  endeavored 
in  private  life  to  do  all  the  good  in  my  power,  and 
never  for  a  moment  could  indulge  in  malicious  or  unjust 
designs  upon  any  person  whatsoever." 

This  is  the  parting  self-examination  of  a  well  meaning 
and  virtuous  man.  Lyttleton,  although  no  high  exam- 
ple of  excellence,  was,  at  least,  harmless  and  benevolent. 
He  had  always  lived  too  much  in  luxury  and  self-indul- 
gence to  understand  exactly  what  were  the  duties  of  the 
Christian,  but  as  far  as  he  knew  them  he  endeavored  to 
fulfill  them.  He  had  always  acted  upon  the  selfish 
principle  of  avoiding  evil  rather  than  with  ardor  and 
enthusiasm  to  do  good ;  and  it  is  to  be  feared  that  even 
Lyttleton,  pure  as  he  was,  left  much  undone  that  he 
might  have  done,  and  saw  but  a  small  part  of  the 
meaning  of  the  faith  he  professed. 

His  death,  after  much  suffering,  was  finally  easy  and 
tranquil.  He  said  to  Lord  Yalentia,  a  few  hours  before 
he  died :  "Be  good,  be  virtuous,  my  lord ;  you  must 
come  to  this."  He  gave  all  around  him  a  benediction, 
and  left  the  world  with  a  blessing  on  his  lips. 

He  was  buried  at  Hagley,  and  the  following  inscrip- 
tion was  cut  on  the  side  of  his  lady's  monument : 

This  unadorned  stone  was  placed  here 

by  the  particular  desire  and  express 

directions  of  the  Right  Honorable 

GEORGE  LORD  LYTTLETON, 
Who  died  August  22,  1773,  aged  64. 


III3    LITEIiAJlY    K  IMPUTATION.  383 

His  literary  reputation  in  a  great  measure  died  with 
him ;  his  poems  are  long  since  forgotten  and  his 
prose  writings  have  little  merit.  The  Persian  letters, 
the  most' amusing  of  them  all,  were  written  while  he 
was  very  young,  and  are  a  tolerable  imitation  of  Mon- 
tesquieu. They  contain  passages  indelicate  and  coarse, 
and  could  hardly  be  placed  in  the  hands  of  the  young 
and  pure  of  our  own  day.  They  probably  gave  rise, 
however,  to  Goldsmith's  Citizen  of  the  World,  and  by 
their  popularity  led  that  delightful  writer  to  imitate  and 
surpass  them.  But  Goldsmith's  letters  are  the  perfect 
and  graceful  productions  of  a  man  of  genius,  Lyttleton's 
those  of  a  coarse  and  inferior  artist. 

His  correspondence  is  often  agreeable  and  interesting. 
His  remarks  on  his  travels  and  the  society  he  met 
abroad  are  the  best  of  his  writings;  his  letter  from 
Wales  to  Bower  is  a  far  more  pleasing  production  than 
the  history,  and  he  seems  always  to  succeed  better  in 
trifles  than  when  he  attempted  any  laborious  work. 

The  " Dialogues"  Johnson  dismisses  with  a  con- 
temptous  criticism,  yet  they  may  even  now  be  read 
with  some  profit.  Falkland  and  Hampdeii  talk  of 
liberty  in  a  manner  which  shows,  at  least,  what  were 
Lyttleton's  opinions  of  that  subject  as  well  as  those  of 
his  party,  and  the  dialogue  between  the  savage  and  the 
duellist  may  be  of  use  to  many  of  our  own  day  who  still 
uphold  the  code  of  honor.  Pope  and  Boileau  discuss 
Shakspeare  with  little  feeling  of  his  real  merits,  and 
Pericles  and  Cosmo  contrast  the  sentiments  of  Greece 


384         THE  GHAEACTEE  OF  HIS  WOKKS. 

and  Florence.  In  our  own  time  "Walter  Savage  Landor 
has  adopted  and  improved  upon  the  model  of  Lyttleton, 
and  when  his  heroes  talk  they  are  certain  to  say  some- 
thing new. 

In  general,  Lyttleton  was  a  laborious  and  careful 
writer,  with  no  imagination,  little  feeling,  and  capable 
of  few  great  or  stirring  thoughts.  His  history  will,  no 
doubt,  be  read  by  all  writers  upon  that  subject  as  a 
store-house  of  materials ;  but  his  fame  will  rest  rather 
upon  the  purity  and  elevation  of  his  character  than 
upon  his  intellectual  merit. 


TOBIAS  SMOLLET. 

TOBIAS  SMOLLET  was'  born  in  1721,  at  the  farm  of 
DalcLuhurn,  on  the  banks  of  the  Leven,  amid  fine  and 
striking  scenery,  which  seems  early  to  have  delighted 
him.  His  father  was  the  son  of  Sir  James  Smollet,  of 
Bonhill ;  but,  having  married,  against  his  father's  con- 
sent, a  lady  of  no  fortune,  died,  leaving  two  sons  and  a 
daughter,  together  with  his  wife,  dependent  on  Sir 
James  for  support.  The  elder  son  went  into  the  army, 
and  was  lost  off  the  coasfc  of  America ;  the  younger, 
Tobias,  was  sent  to  school  at  Dumbarton,  and  soon  be- 
gan to  show  traces  of  an  intellect  above  the  common 
order.  He  wrote  verses  in  honor  of  "William  Wallace, 
the  national  hero,  several  of  whose  exploits  had  taken 
place  near  Dumbarton;  and  whose  adventures  and 
patrioticlife  filled  young  Smollet  with  enthusiasm. 

He  was  also  remarkable  for  great  liveliness  of  spirits, 
taking  part  in  all  school-boy  frolics,  and  enjoying  prac- 
tical joking  and  rough  play  with  an  ardor  that  supplied 
him  with  many  amusing  reminiscences  for  his  novels. 
He  next  went  to  Glasgow,  to  be  apprenticed  to  a  sur- 

17 


386  HIS   FERST   TRAGEDY. 

geon,  and  to  attend  lectures  at  the  University;  and  here 
"he  was  known  as  a  sarcastic,  daring  and  ungovernable 
student,  fond  of  ridiculing  his  superiors,  and  of  course 
by  no  means  popular  among  the  heads  of  the  University. 
By  the  death  of  his  grandfather,  which  now  happened, 
Smollet  was  left  penniless,  and  he  next  went  up  to  Lon- 
don, with  little  money,  but  many  recommendations  from 
his  friends,  to  seek  a  maintenance.  He  was  at  length 
employed  as  surgeon's  mate  on  board  a  ship  of  the  line 
that  went  with  the  unlucky  expedition  to  Carthagena ; 
and  here  he  gained  that  knowledge  of  the  hardships  of 
sea-life  and  of  the  peculiar  character  of  sailors,  which 
gives  a  coarse  interest  to  several  of  his  novels.  Although 
certain  of  promotion,  he  had  become  disgusted  with  the 
sea;  and,  having  left  his  ship,  went  to  live  at  Jamaica, 
where  he  married  a  lady  of  the  name  of  Lascelles.  In 
1Y45  he  came  back  to  London,  with  the  hope  of  living 
by  literature. 

He  had  already  experienced,  however,  some  of  the 
mortifications  of  a  literary  life.  His  first  tragedy,  "  The 
Kegicide,"  written  at  eighteen,  was  rejected  at  all  the 
theatres,  and  he  was  forced  to  publish  it  by  subscrip- 
tion. An  opera,  which  he  offered  to  Eich,  was  also 
refused;  upon  which  the  disappointed  author  com- 
plained and  lamented  as  if  none  but  himself  had  ever 
been  thus  treated. 

His  talents  did  not  fit  him  to  write  either  tragedy  or 
opera;  but  several  poems,  which  he  now  produced,  are 
full  of  sweetness  and  power.  "  Leven  "Water"  is  one 


RODERICK   RANDOM.  387 

of  the  finest  odes  in  the  language,  and  the  "  Tears  of 
Scotland"  have  still  an  interest  for  the  people  of  that 
patriotic  country.  The  ode  to  Independence,  too,  is 
strong,  vigorous,  rough  and  effective,  and  has  in  it 
something  of  the  poetic  element  which  will  not  let  it 
die. 

But  in  his  twenty-seventh  year,  in  1748,  Smollet 
struck  upon  that  literary  vein  which  was  to  yield  him 
his  widest  reputation.  He  now  published  his  "  Roderick 
Kandom,"  a  book  that  was  more  generally  read  than 
probably  any  novel  of  the  time.  Coarse,  indecent,  and 
rough,  the  intellect  of  Smollet  is  happily  developed  in 
tliis  production.  It  is  in  a  measure  the  history  of  his 
own  varying  life,  and  is  often  natural  and  affecting. 
Here,  too,  he  introduces  the  British  sailor,  in  the  per- 
son of  Tom  Bowling,  the  first  of  that  long  series  of 
naval  heroes  who  have  since  enlivened  English  litera- 
ture. Brave,  generous,  rough  and  candid,  the  surly 
and  irascible  sailor,  so  devoted  to  his  profession  and  his 
ship,  was  a  creation  that  had  too  much  originality  and 
power  ever  to  be  forgotten ;  and  later  writers  of  sea- 
tales  have  seldom  departed  from  the  model  given  by 
Smollet. 

Roderick  Random,  too,  contained  many  allusions  to 
notorious  characters  of  the  time,  and  was  full  of  Smollet's 
rough  and  sarcastic  humor.  He  narrowly  observed  the 
most  disagreeable  side  of  life,  and  was  more  intent  upon 
extracting  from  it  disgusts  and  miseries,  than  in  softening 
and  smoothing  those  that  are  inevitable.  His  jokes  are 


388  PEREGRINE  PICKLE. 

vulgar  and  laughable,  his  stories  thos^  of  the  cockpit  of 
a  man-of-war;  but  he  found  the  public  was  not  fastidi- 
ous, and  never  after  made  any  pretence  to  delicacy. 

He  was  now  an  author  of  wide  reputation,  and  began 
to  find  that  literature  was  profitable.  In  1750,  he 
visited  Paris,  his  mind  already  revolving  the  plot  of 
"  Peregrine  Pickle."  This  laughable  and  indecent  book 
is  chiefly  enlivened  by  its  sea  characters,  its  coarse 
jokes  and  overstrained  wit.  Smollet  was,  however, 
possessed  of  considerable  learning,  and  the  classical 
feast  which  he  paints,  at  which  the  poet  Akenside  is 
supposed  to  have  stood  for  the  learned  physician,  shows 
humor  of  a  higher  order  than  anything  he  has  produced. 
Through  all  his  writings  his  Jacobite  inclinations  con- 
stantly overflow;  and  he  touches  skillfully,  although 
rudely,  the  romantic  chord  in  the  Scottish  nature,  their 
love  for  the  unfortunate  Stuarts.  The  "  Tears  of  Scot- 
land" gained  much  of  its  popularity  from  this  circum- 
stance ;  and,  in  fact,  Smollet's  strong  prejudices  on 
every  subject,  have  been  of  no  little  use  to  his 
fame. 

In  Peregrine  Pickle  he  ridicules  the  French  with 
keen  and  ready  satire ;  and  when  he  wrote  his  "  Travels" 
he  continued  the  same  strain  of  contempt  for  every 
thing  foreign.  "With  a  large  portion  of  his  countrymen 
this  added  interest  to  his  work ;  they  delighted  to  hear 
the  French  mounseers  ridiculed,  and  their  weaknesses 
and  national  peculiarities  painted  with  Smollet's  coarse 
and  vigorous  wit.  And  as  Smollet  had  to  live  by 


HE  VISITS   SCOTLAND.  389 

literature,  he  indulged  his  readers  at  the  expense  of 
good  taste  and  generosity. 

Yarious  novels  succeeded  one  another  from  his  ready 
pen,  all  possessed  of  the  same  rough  interest  and  the 
same  repulsive  features.  He  translated  "Gil  Bias," 
and  published  "  Count  Fathom,"  and  "  Sir  Launcelot 
Greaves ;"  but  was  also  engaged  in  a  periodical,  which, 
owing  to  his  rude  and  violent  nature  gave  him  no  little 
trouble. 

After  a  short  visit  to  Scotland,  where  he  saw  his 
mother  after  many  years'  separation,  and  renewed  his 
recollections  of  Leven  "Water,  he  returned  to  London  to 
edit  the  Critical  Eeview.  This  he  continued  for  several 
years,  but,  unhappily,  brought  into  criticism  a  violence 
and  sarcasm  that  involved  him  in  various  troubles.  He 
reviewed  Grainger's  Tibullus  with  such  bitterness  as  to 
produce  a  violent  quarrel  with  that  author ;  and  about 
the  same  time  he  was  prosecuted  for  assault  upon  a 
person,  whom  he  had  caned  for  some  real  or  fancied 
injury.  Smollet  was  acquitted,  but  wrote  an  angry 
letter  to  the  opposing  counsel  which  gave  no  favorable 
indication  of  his  temper. 

Soon  after,  having  made  some  severe  strictures  upon 
Admiral  Knowles'  pamphlet,  the  admiral  prosecuted 
him  for  libel  and  gained  a  verdict  of  three  hundred 
pounds,  besides  imprisonment  of  three  months  in  the 
King's  Bench.  Here  Smollet  lay  for  some  time,  never 
idle  nor  disheartened,  while  Garrick,  whom  he  had 
abused  and  satirized  with  extreme  violence,  now  brought 


390  HISTORY  OF  ENGLAITO. 

out  for  him  a  farce  called  "  the  Reprisals,"  and  Smollet, 
touched  with  his  generosity,  wrote  to  him  that  he  should 
ever  find  his  gratitude  as  warm  as  his  other  passions. 

He  now  engaged  to  write  his  History  of  England,  a 
work  which  was  written  more  rapidly  than  probably 
any  other  of  its  kind.  Four  large  quarto  volumes 
Smollet  composed  in  fourteen  months.  But  the  author 
was  now  a  well  known  and  popular  writer,  and  even 
his  eccentricities  and  faults  added  to  his  popularity. 
His  history,  therefore,  sold  with  uncommon  rapidity, 
and  the  copy  money  he  received  for  it  exceeded  all  that 
Hume  or  Eobertson  gained  by  their  earlier  works. 

Smollet  was  a  Jacobite  and  of  course  a  tory ;  he  sus- 
tained the  measures  of  the  Earl  of  Bute,  the  unpopular 
Scotch  minister  of  George  H.,  and  now  commenced  a 
weekly  paper,  called  "The  Briton,"  in  defence  of  the 
court  party.  This  gave  rise  to  the  more  famous  "  North 
Briton,"  of  John  "Wilkes,  who,  although  he  had  long 
lived  in  friendship  with  Smollet,  took  the  opportunity 
of  bringing  himself  into  notice  by  attacking  his  princi- 
ples and  abusing  his  party. 

Notwithstanding  his  wide  fame  and  the  ready  sale  of 
his  writings,  Smollet  had  kept  himself  poor  by  his 
imprudence,  and  had  made  no  use  of  his  ministerial 
friends  to  obtain  any  permanent  support.  His  peculiar 
and  hasty  temperament  seems  to  have  alienated  Ms 
friends,  while  his  sarcastic  turn  gave  offence  to  many 
who  might  easily  have  aided  him.  The  death  of  his 
only  daughter,  who  died  in  her  fifteenth  year,  seems 


HIS  TRAVELS.  391 

to  have  increased  the  depression  of  his  spirits  and 
plunged  him  in  a  lasting  melancholy.  Hoping  to  find 
some  relief  in  change  of  scene,  he  went  abroad,  visited 
France  and  Italy,  and  on  his  return  wrote  an  account 
of  his  travels. 

These  letters  show  that  his  diseased  and  melancholy 
mind  was  far  from  being  improved  by  his  journey.  He 
sees  everywhere  only  causes  of  disgust,  misery  and 
despair.  Nothing  is  beautiful  in  nature  or  perfect  in 
art.  The  Yenus  de  Medici  is  no  better  than  she  should 
be,  and  the  Pantheon  only  a  huge  cockpit.  He  had 
been  cheated  at  inns,  devoured  by  fleas,  racked  by  bad 
roads  and  worse  vehicles,  until  nothing  but  a  few  strokes 
of  grim  humor  relieve  the  wretchedness  of  his  picture. 
"  The  learned  Smelfungus,"  says  Sterne,  "  travelled  from 
Boulogne  to  Paris,  from  Paris  to  Rome,  and  so  on ;  but 
he  set  out  with  the  spleen  and  jaundice,  and  every  object 
he  passed  by  was  discolored  and  distorted.  Til  tell 
it,'  said  Smelfungus, '  to  the  world.'  '  You  had  better 
tell  it,'  said  I,  £  to  your  physician.' ': 

He  visited  Edinburgh  in  bad  health  in  1776,  where 
he  saw  his  mother  and  passed  some  time  with  his  cousin, 
Mr.  Smollet,  of  Bonhill;  on  his  return  he  wrote  his 
"  History  and  Adventures  of  an  Atom,"  a  political  work 
full  of  his  usual  bitterness  and  ill  humor,  and  well  fitted 
to  please  neither  his  friends  rior  his  enemies.  In  fact, 
Smollet  was  never  long  satisfied  with  any  one  and  easily 
found  some  cause  of  complaint  against  his  friends,  and 
fancied  injustice  and  neglect  in  those  who  were  best 


392  HIS   OLD   AGE. 

affected  towards  him.  Soon  after  appeared  the  least 
indecent  of  his  novels,  "  Humphrey  Clinker,"  and  which 
still  showed  all  his  native  humor. 

But  he  was  now  fast  sinking  into  the  misfortunes  and 
difficulties  of  poverty  and  old  age.  The  fortune  he  had 
received  with  his  wife.  Miss  Lascelles,  was  less  than  he 
had  looked  for,  and  had  long  since  been  dissipated  in 
extravagant  living.  His  mind  was  no  longer  fertile  or 
his  body  active,  and  he  could  no  more  rely  upon  his 
pen  for  support.  His  health,  too,  obliged  him  to  travel, 
but  his  friends  in  vain  applied  to  the  ministry  to  give 
him  the  small  post  of  consul  at  Naples  or  Genoa,  to 
enable  him  to  support  the  expense  of  a  journey.  Mr. 
Hume,  among  others,  interceded  for  him,  but  the 
ministry  were  obdurate ;  they  refused  to  the  suffering 
man  of  genius  the  trifle  they  gave  to  the  lowest  of  their 
own  partisans. 

Smollet,  however,  found  means  in  1770  to  visit  Italy, 
probably  through  the  generosity  of  his  friends.  He 
remained  a  short  time  at  Leghorn  and  then  went  to 
Monte  Nuovo,  where  he  died  October,  1771,  in  his  51st 
year. 

Smollet  was  well  formed  and  dignified  in  appearance, 
his  countenance  pleasing,  and  as  he  was  fond  of  society 
had  lived  with  profuseness,  keeping  a  liberal  table  and 
entertaining  much  company.  His  conversation  was, 
like  his  writings,  original,  coarse  and  amusing;  his 
manners  were  easy  and  his  company  always  acceptable. 

From  youth  his  disposition  seems  to  have  been  of 


HIS   NATURE.  393 

that  melancholy  yet  humorous  turn  which  is  not  unfre- 
quent  to  be  met  with ;  everything  seemed  to  present 
itself  to  him  in  a  double  aspect  of  sadness  and  of  humor. 
He  saw  in  life  little  beautiful,  generous,  refined,  or 
attractive ;  but  he  noticed  much  that  gave  rise  to  laugh- 
ter and  sadness.  His  disposition  was  not  inclined  to 
mockery  and  lightness ;  yet  everything  that  he  saw 
seemed  to  awaken  in  him  the  sensation  of  bitter  mirth. 
He  scoffed  at  what  all  other  men  admired,  and  seemed 
dead  to  enthusiasm  in  art  or  character. 

His  nature,  however,  was  generous,  forgiving,  and 
kind.  To  the  unfortunate  he  was  apt  to  give  more  than 
he  could  well  afford,  and  to  those  whom  he  had  injured 
he  was  always  ready  to  make  a  generous  reparation. 
His  temper  was  quick  to  fancy  an  insult,  and  difficult 
and  uncertain  to  satisfy ;  but  he  never  failed  to  make  a 
grateful  return  for  kindness,  and  was  always  desirous  to 
repay  a  favor  tenfold. 

To  his  wife  he  seems  to  have  been  an  affectionate 
husband,  and  his  daughter's  death  probably  hastened 
his  own.  His  widow  raised  a  plain  tablet  to  his 
memory  at  Leghorn,  for  which  Dr.  Armstrong  fur- 
nished the  epitaph ;  while  his  cousin  erected  an 
elegant  pillar  on  the  banks  of  Leven,  the  river  he 
has  immortalized,  and  Dr.  Johnson  wrote  part  of  the 
inscription.  In  fact  there  seems  to  have  been  a  general 
sorrow  among  men  of  letters  at  the  early  death  of  one 
who  had  so  long  been  their  terror  and  their  scourge, 
and  the  anger  and  pain  which  had  been  so  often  excited 


394:  HIS    POETKY. 

by  Smollett's  severe  strictures,  while  lie  lived,  were  for- 
gotten in  the  recollection  of  his  benevolence  and  real 
tenderness  of  disposition. 

In  poetry  he  possessed  a  rude  and  original  power, 
which  gives  to  all  his  pieces  a  certain  value  above  those 
of  most  of  his  contemporaries.  He  was  one  of  the  first 
to  abandon  the  smooth  measures  of  Pope,  and  to  speak 
the  real  feelings  of  his  nature  in  his  own  bold  and  ready 
language.  His  odes  abound  in  generous  and  ardent 
impulses,  but,  like  his  own  nature,  are  rude,  irregular, 
and  imperfect.  "  Leven  "Waters  "  and  the  "  Tears  of 
Scotland "  touch  the  feelings,  and  produce  the  stirring 
effect  of  true  poetry,  but  they  want  the  higher  charms 
of  the  art— refinement,  melody,  and  grace. 

As  a  novelist,  Smollet  was  the  creator  of  a  humorous 
and  original  school,  gaining  nothing  from  romance  and 
legendary  lore,  but  painting  the  passing  world  with  all  its 
follies,  weaknesses  and  sins.  He  resembles  rather  the 
school  of  Dickens  than  of  Scott,  and  aided  greatly  in 
introducing  into  that  kind  of  writing,  novelty,  observa- 
tion, and  truth.  His  works,  however,  can  hardly  be 
commended  as  good  models  either  in  style  or  in 
morals ;  and  no  one  can  read  them  without  regret  that 
a  mind  capable  of  such  real  excellence  should  have 
been  marred  by  so  many  gross  defects. 

His  historical  works  were  various ;  he  wrote  the  his- 
tories of  France,  Italy,  and  Germany,  for  the  "  Univer- 
sal History,"  and  continued  his  History  of  England 
down  to  1765.  This  work,  so  rapidly  and  carelessly 


THE   HISTORY.  395 

written,  so  full  of  inaccuracies  and  intentional  misre- 
presentations, is  yet  printed  as  the  best  continuation  wa 
have  of  the  earlier  narrative  of  Hume.  It  extends  from 
the  time  of  Csesar  to  1765.  "Whatever  other  faults  it 
may  have,  it  is  certainly  interesting ;  Smollet  had  the 
power  of  fixing  the  attention  of  the  reader  to  whatever 
he  produced ;  and  in  this  respect,  at  least,  he  takes  a 
position  far  above  the  Cartes,  Bradys,  and  Oldmixons 
with  whom  he  most  properly  comes  into  competition. 


END   OF   VOL.    I. 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 


I 


LOAN  DEPT. 


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30Nov'60«W 

*&***>  «  .0 

DECS    B60 

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MAY  ii  y  1961 

JM 

pIc'D  LD 

MAS  8    iao/, 

T  r»  01  A    KH     /t  'KQ                                       General  Library 
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